I’m the only auburn haired kid in the Griffith clan. Oh joy. There’s a variety of nicknames I’ve been bestowed over my life.
Blaze (It was never really vibrant red. Really.)
Freckle-faced Strawberry (yep, I have freckles to rival an Irish person)
Hosemary (curses for my brother’s childhood lisp)
Minnie (as in Mouse—I was scrawny)
Mur (the only one I still like)
RMY (Montana friends’ favorite)
Red (not inventive, but the most prevalent)
Rosie (yech)
Rosy-posy (double yech)
Rose-a-maria (my Welsh-heritage Granddad called me this. Why?)
Trouble (And Granddad called me this. Ahem, this one is understandable.)
Mom fondly yelled out RM, but Dad rarely used any name but Rosemary. My siblings called me many things. And I still have friends who know me as Mur.
The other childhood names … well, many of them were said in ridicule or teasing or sheer meanness. The nickname depended on the when, the where, and for sure, the who. From grade school through high school, I heard them all. Repeatedly.
I wonder if being saddled with those nicknames is what inspires me to bestow nicknames on people who cross my path.
- Dad was Daddeo
- Mom was Mumsey
- Sister Jackie is Seester or Sacajewea
- Brother Joey is Wojo
- Sister Joanne is PKS (punk kid sister)
- Niece is Bear
There’s one childhood nickname that should have scarred me for life. A couple of beloved cousins—you know who you are—labeled this cute, little, redheaded kid with the moniker, Snotnose 38.
Look at this little freckled face.
What were they thinking?
Kids Bestow Childhood Nicknames
We know kids can be mean. We know that today in our society, bullying has reached epic proportions with the internet exacerbating the problem. I’ve no idea how I would have turned out if my most humiliating moments had been captured on video and sent through cyberspace.
Life was complicated as I shared my less than shining moments with a dozen cousins occuping my stratosphere. Growing up in our neighborhood, Griffith Hollow, nothing was off limits. We tormented each other and played and fought and romped and fought some more. We were friends and cousins and warred with each other and invariably made up.
Jackie and I played with cousins K&J a lot. A year and two older these cousins were the experts on creating adventures. As active children, we ramped up into crazed critters around them. We roamed the woods that seemed massive when we were three and four feet tall. How often we dared and double-dared each other to do any number of swaggering feats. I tried, but rarely won any of the dares.
I have to blame (applaud) these cousins for helping shape me. For a long time, I was the proverbial fiery, quick-tempered redhead. Somewhere along the way, thank goodness, that went away … replaced with the ability to find laughter in most anything.
Don’t get me wrong, my temper still flares, mostly over bad drivers and injustices that cross my path (or lane). But these days, my temper goes poof pretty fast and I’m left cracking wise.
I’ve Been a Bully
I once drove an employee to join the military. He constantly tried to please me (never asked him to) and wore me out. In my defense, a year later he returned to thank me—saying it was the best decision he’d ever made.
Could I blame my obstinance on the hair color? I’m no psychologist so I can’t say auburn hair caused all my problems. Maybe it’s birth order—being the middle child for the first ten years of my life. You know, never old enough, often too old. Yeah, let’s blame my tyrant tendencies on that.
My niece was a brute to her younger brother. (Only the two of them, so that middle kid syndrome flies out the window!) We warned her that he would get bigger and stronger (before she joined Crossfit and out-dead-lifts her brother). Someday, we said, he will get back at you for the mistreatment. The kid let us down. He remains the gentle soul he was as a child and although he’d occasionally scream, “Zenny!” at the top of his lungs, he never did actually haul off and smack her a good one.
Good for him, but for her? Just kidding, niece.
Learning to Laugh—at Ourselves
Thankfully, wisely, our parents taught their four children to laugh at ourselves—with gusto. They well illustrated it by laughing heartedly at themselves. When I grew up and learned what damaging behavior went on in other kids’ homes, I realized that what I thought had been difficult was nothing. No one escapes childhood unscathed, but our issues were fairly minor. Of the lectures they taught us most subliminally, embracing self-deprecation is at the top of the list. Being able to laugh at ourselves is difficult, but as critical as taking the blame when it belongs squarely on your shoulders. Who the heck likes being wrong or ridiculed? Gee. Not me. Especially at age eight or ten or eighteen or … you get the idea.
Dear parents, there’s a lot to balance between kids picking on each other because that’s what kids do and having someone terrorize your child. Having to worry about childhood teasing escalating into a real bullying is a problem. It’s a challenge to teach children to both defend themselves or others without escalating a situation or becoming the aggressor.There’s a lot to balance there, isn’t that so? I’m thankful that the worst K&J did to Jackie and me were bug related.
That said, Jackie, did you ever get over that fishing worm squiggling on your finger the time they made you stand against a birch tree with your eyes closed?
*
You really are NOT a Snotnose 38!
Ha ha. I was blowing my nose when I read that comment, Seester!
I love those older pictures of you! But yes, bullying is horrible. I imagine it would be hard to be a kid with red hair. That color is so common in adults who dye their hair. But very rare in kids who have their natural hair color. (lol, if only those kids knew they’d be trying to copy your red locks one day.) I was horribly bullied as a kid because I had physical problems stemming from a childhood illness. Bullying is horrible. And I’m sure social media these days just makes it worse.
I remember being bullied by some “big” girls in the bathroom when I was in first grade. I don’t remember how my first grade teacher found out, but at some point, she started letting me use a different, private bathroom. I also grew up in what became somewhat of a tough neighborhood. I went to an academic magnet school, wore glasses, orthopedic shoes and carried a school bag. So, sometimes I felt like I was running a gauntlet of taunts walking from the public bus stop home after school. For some reason, although I didn’t enjoy it, I think I realized that my situation was a lot better than that of the taunters, so it didn’t overly bother me.
Growing up, our two sons pretty much tormented each other with mean nicknames and put downs. It made me crazy and really saddened me. (Actually, I observed that in their group of friends, there was often mean banter.) Our sons’ bad relationship continued into adulthood, but just last year, unprompted, they arranged a time to meet in person and to agree to respect each other. They still don’t “get” each other, but they apparently communicate often and I believe they’ll be there for each other when necessary.
Suzanne, I’m saddened by the number of us that faced bullying as kids. It was wise of your teacher to come up with such a good way of dealing with the situation. I wonder if she also dealt with those kids in some other manner.
Oh gosh, read: The saga of the impossibly skinny Levi Jeans
My sister and I BATTLED with each other all through our teen years. Our parents should have sent me away! But she is my best friend now, thank goodness. I will hope the same thing develops for your sons. We don’t have to be alike to truly care for each other.
I guess I was on the wrong end of bullying. I was called by nicknames, most not so flattering.
However, as time went by, I ended up the more successful of my group than the others. Now, anyone tried to call me something, it does not bother me. I have been called worse.
It’s good to let the names roll off of us, William. There isn’t much we can do to stop the bullies. Except maybe laughing at them!
I don’t recall being called too many nicknames when I was a kid. My dad did call me pumpkin from time to time. I was more often than not the bully until I got to sixth grade or so. I did however hate being named Jeri, after my dad Jerry. It was not fun to have a boy’s name, and I did get teased a bit for that. Yes, kids are mean. Indeed. The meanness of kids to each other was always apparent when I was in the classroom–in subtle and not-so-subtle ways.
We called my little sister pumpkin sometimes–it was truly a term of endearment. A college roommate was Jeri, so I know what she went through as a kid. I think we all can be bullies sometimes, not that it makes it right.
I envy you the harmless names you were called. I didn’t have such a happy experience with the names I was called because I was a chubby child — but in looking back not so chubby that I deserved those nicknames. Words can scar.
That’s sad, Jeannette. Kids are brats and words can scar. You’re such a beauty that I hope all those kids feel really bad for torturing you.
I hated–and I mean hated–being called Red. It made me see Red. Although there were a disproportionate number of redheaded kids in my class, I was the only one in my entire family–both sides, all cousins included. Everyone else had what I considered normal hair–black, blonde, brunette. There I was with my blazing red hair, standing out when all I wanted to do was blend in. Eventually, I rebelled, but it took too long to embrace the color.
Then it turned white. HA
Hi Rose. Indeed, kids can be cruel. I’m fortunate that I don’t recall any serious bullying or cruel nicknames in my past. But it certainly is an ongoing problem in the world. But can you imagine being a kid in today’s world? Online bullying is far worse that some kid calling anyone an unflattering nickname in the school yard. Can you imagine???
Glad that you didn’t face much bad treatment from kids, Doreen. I can’t imagine how tough being a kid is today, when we thought we had it tough. The whole cyber-everything is entirely too daunting.
Thank you for sharing your story Rosemary. Bullying is rife and though many may say name calling is harmless amongst children – it really isn’t. Not when it is day in and day out or when others join in and laugh at you. Names hurt and they stay with you years after the people have left your life.
I was verbally bullied throughout most of secondary school and I too called others names as a child though not on a daily basis, completly breaking someone down. It has taken me years to shake off those names as they stick like labels.
Children can be cruel and some set out to terrorise others making their lives an utter misery.
Nice photograph of you!
Phoenicia, I know from reading your blogs for years that school was tough on you. You are such a generous soul, that I get angry on your behalf! When I was a kid in the 1960s, I don’t think it was as bad as after cell phones/cameras have been allowed bullies to exploit their bad behavior. Of course, I could be wearing my rose-colored glasses again.
I don’t remember ever crying over the names, but I do remember getting flaming mad and retaliating. Probably my parents could have told a different story, but in later years I never thought to ask them. It’s a fascinating thing that even the nicest of parents can have a kid who will harass other kids. At least until those parents find out about it and correct the behavior!
There is an organization here, Southern Poverty Law Center, that grew out of the civil unrest in the 1960s. One program they have that I like is Teaching Tolerance. It is geared at grade school to high school students and helps them learn about the benefits of diversity–getting kids to see how alike they are despite their differences. I like to think it could make things different.
There are those rosy glasses again.
Picture: mom made that outfit and I loved it so!
I am endlessly fascinated by the different lives we all lead. As a child, those nicknames must have bugged you, but as an outsider looking in I think they are cute. And I can’t imagine growing up surrounded by so much family! No one ever had a nickname in my family, no one ever hugged or kissed, and because of the secret substance abuse that plagued the home front no other kids were even allowed to come over, well you get the idea. I think you were blessed with a wonderful childhood!
Marquita, I get so sad when I hear that other people didn’t have this kind of goofy childhood. It was not perfect and I was quite the red headed monster child from time to time, but there really was so much love around–and the hugging? Oh my gosh to the hugging. Still.
Yep, we were super blessed.
All those childhood nicknames could be the reason why you have continued the nicknames!
You must be right, Weni. 🙂 (Although I didn’t give that to you–niece did!)
Hmmm….I still think about that worm. Those darn cousins whom I love and adore to this very day.
They are sweet and kind women–got all the ornery out of themselves when we were kids!
Such a different upbringing you had, RoseMary! My parents were both only children, so my siblings and I had no cousins to learn about life from, no Aunts and Uncles to give an alternative adult perspective. I didn’t get my first nickname until 8th grade, given by a friend. I had longed for one for so long! Fun post – glad you re-shared it.
Karen, I was in college until I realized that most kids did not grow up the way we did. Our family had/has issues, don’t get me wrong. But the overall memory when thinking about being a kid is one of chaos and laughing and cousins and fantastic aunts & uncles and goofy parents. Yep, we know we were blessed.
PS. What’s the nickname? I still love being called Mur.
I’ll tell it to you, and then I’ll explain: Big Ram. My maiden name was Rampolla, and I was bigger than a lot of the other girls in 8th grade. Still, I was so happy to have it. But you can imagine how it could be misinterpreted by someone less naive than me! Actually, that would be a fun blog post 🙂
That would be a fun blog, Karen. Think of the stories you could make up full of misunderstandings and misdirection!
If only kids that get bullied would have the self confidence to ignore it and know they are beautiful outside and inside. And you my friend, no matter what you called, are beautiful!
You are SO right, Carol. And those who bully are the ugly ones, no matter what they look like physically. Our behavior makes us beautiful or not.
And … aw shucks. Glad you are my friend!
I just love calling you Rosemary its fitting and somewhat royal…well at least the way I say it:)
Just keep calling me, sweetheart.
I think almost all of us of a certain age can think of many reasons to be thankful that video wasn’t around during our younger years
Oh yeah, Ken. How do your kids cope?