She calls me “gub-gub.”
I’ve had several nicknames in my life, and I must confess, I’ve been fond of them all. I think we all love nicknames. For a nickname signifies that we’ve been seen. It’s personal; it recognizes our individuality. It’s always a sign of affection, even love.
In his highly original novel, Anxious People, Frederik Backman (author of A Man Called Ove) writes, “We give those we love nicknames, because love requires a word that belongs to us alone.”
When I was very little, my father called me “K-k-k-Katie,” after a popular song of the time. This somehow morphed into the ridiculous “Katooshki.” I had never heard anybody called that; the name was mine alone. I loved it. But I didn’t like it when he embellished it further as “Katooshka-yaya-yayaya.” Enough was enough!
I might have wanted my schoolmates to give me a nickname, but only star athletes got that treatment in high school (Ace, Rocket!), and before Title IX, there was little emphasis on sports for girls.
In college, I gave myself a nickname I still sometimes use. When I make a minor mistake, such as spilling a glass of water or burning the beans, I scold myself using the name “Cathikins.” “Oh, Cathikins!” “Cathikins, why did you do that?” “Cathikins, that was so silly.” It’s affectionate, forgiving; it drains humiliation and blame from the blunder. “Cathikins” has a comical sound; you can’t be angry at her for long. “Cathikins” helps me self-soothe.
After my first marriage ended, I met a man whose college nickname was “Thor.” He was tall and blond and Norse-looking. Sometimes his Facebook friends still call him “Thor.”
After we got married, “Thor” began calling me “Cathiness,” which sounds like “happiness.” I am not just one woman, I am a quality: “Cathiness.” Of what does Cathiness consist? I try to live up to what always feels like a tribute.
At the Burning Man festival in Nevada, one is encouraged to use a new name, a playa name, ideally bestowed upon oneself by others. With a new name one can be incognito. When I went to Burning Man the first time, I was solo, so I gave myself the playa name “Katya.” I suppose I was exoticizing and romanticizing myself. “Katya” helped me be more spontaneous, which may be the purpose of a playa name.
Sometimes a sobriquet develops from a mispronunciation. My youngest granddaughter cannot say “grandma.” Instead, she says “gub-gub,” and it’s so cute no one is allowed to correct her. Now it’s become my family nickname. I hear my son say, “Gub-gub’s getting ready to go out.” To me, it sounds like “gobble, gobble,” and I like the idea of myself continuing to gobble up experience, ideas, sensations. It also sounds comical. Who could be angry with a person called “Gub-gub”?
What a pleasure it is to be given just the right nickname, especially by a person of three!
Nicknames are common in the Philippines. My isn’t is Chic-Chic or just Chic for short. This came about because my grandfather used to call me his little chickadee. Repeated nicknames like mine are also common. Thank you for sharing!
In college I was called Cleo ( mostly by a group of men who l played bridge with), I
wore my hair then in a shorts page boy and bangs
My dad call me Jake - I didn’t mind
My boy cousins and their friends called me Jackson affectionately.
My daughter is the only female who gave me a nickname- Mamooshka or Mamushki.