Wednesday, September 08, 2004

You can call me Al, if Al's got a check coming

The quartet and I had a fascinating (well, fascinating to me, anyway) e-mail discussion today about names and their impact on our personal identities.

The ball started rolling when I looked at a check our new bass had given me last night, reimbursing me for his quartet outfit. I noticed for the first time that, although I know him as "Eddie," his first name and middle initial are "Lawrence H." Curious — which isn't my middle name, but should be — I shot him a note asking how the nickname, which doesn't appear to derive from his given names, had originated. He explained that it was a family thing, a sort of tribute to his late maternal grandfather, to whom he was very close. Plus he never much cottoned to being called "Larry." (I can understand that. All I can think of when I hear "Larry" is that noxious, tuneless song "My Name is Larry" by some guy called Larry "Wild Man" Fischer. Dr. Demento used to feature that noise on his radio show almost every week when I was in high school.)

Which prompted me to thinking about my own name. I spent the first 35 years of my life trying in vain to convince people that my first name is Michael, not Mike. I never introduced myself or signed my name as anything other than Michael, but invariably, people reverted to Mike despite my best efforts to the contrary. The last straw came when I started singing in the local barbershop chorus eight years ago. The person in charge of ordering official chorus name badges handed me one that said "Mike" on it, despite the fact that all the membership paperwork I turned in said "Michael." With a sigh, I surrendered to the inevitable, since people were going to call me what the badge said, regardless.

This is mostly a male thing, I've noticed. With one exception, my female friends and acquaintances have always called me Michael, and do to this day. DL is the one holdout — I've never quite figured out why, after knowing me for a quarter of a century, she insists on calling me Mike, especially given that I always sign my e-mails to her with my full given name. The only other women I know who address me as Mike are wives and SOs of other barbershop singers. KJ, who has been in a relationship with me for 23 years, has never, ever called me Mike, and it still raises her hackles a little (though less than it used to) to hear other people do it. Men, on the other hand, are incorrigible in this regard. I can introduce myself to another guy, "Hi, I'm Michael," and get the immediate reply, "Good to meet you, Mike." Sigh.

So I've surrendered. I no longer correct people who call me by the once-despised diminutive, and I even use it myself in a sort of joking way. In nearly 43 years on this crazy planet, I've learned to choose my battles wisely. This one isn't worth the fight.

2 insisted on sticking two cents in:

Blogger Joel offered these pearls of wisdom...

Re: names and diminutives.
I don't know if its fully a male thing. I'm a guy. Partially out of habit, partially out of personality, I always call people by the name they first introduce themselves to me. Only if they change their name or insist to be called something else afterwards do I start calling them by the new name.

7:26 AM  
Blogger SwanShadow offered these pearls of wisdom...

I'm the same way, Joel. But I've noticed that those who feel at liberty to wander from people's self-appointed designations are almost always male. Women, as a general rule, tend to call people by the introductory names they themselves use. Men in general are much quicker to pull the nickname trigger.

8:27 AM  

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