Just call me Daddy

Back when I posted about The Talker's nicknames, I started thinking about my own names and how they have changed over the years. Racecar Man once told his children, "You two kids are the only two people in the world who get to call me Daddy." So I'll start there and work backwards.

Daddy - I've only been one of those for 5 years and a few weeks. But off all the things I have been called, it seems to suit me the best. I only hear it from two people. And I seldom fall for another kid calling out "Daddy". It just does not sound right unless it comes from one of my own.

AtHomeDaddy - I picked it because all of the other blog titles I could think of were already taken on Blogger. The longer it is around, the more I like it and the more I use it online. Though I have yet to introduce myself in person to anyone as AtHomeDaddy.

Mike - My name, used by almost everyone, formal and informal acquaintances alike. It was on my business cards, but that was partially because the printer had a hard time spelling Michael correctly.

Michael - My big sister, one of my long time participants at the recreation center, and one of my mom's friends are about the only people left who call me Michael. When anyone calls me Michael, I think of these three ladies. Or I know I am in trouble. Some guys are Michaels. I am not. And I knew it when I first learned to spell my name.

Mikey - My college nickname from the one year I lived in a dorm. I still hear it from the few guys I keep in contact with.

Art Fag's Roommate - Another dorm nickname. I only lived with him for a semester. Oddly, he had given that nickname to himself. The gay guys in the dorm were lucky since he was actually straight. Which made the whole thing that much more confusing.

Duh Wayne - Mother's in law have to be good for something, right?

Stick, Sticky, Sticky Micky, Stick Man - It seems that no matter what summer camp I worked at, some variation of this followed me there. It started as a joke because I was so skinny (If only they could see me now!). This nickname gained new found glory one summer in northern Indiana after I almost cut off my thumb while I was showing some teens how to whittle on sticks. I still have my thumb. And the stick.

Red Fred - Apparently my family thinks I used to have red hair. They really need to re-check the old photos. I was always blond. And I used to fight you if you called me Red Fred. I killed that nickname when my lovely girlfriend bought me a really nice, red mountain bike. I stenciled his name right on the top tube. And once and for all, everyone knew who Red Fred was. Red Fred and my college girlfriend are both still around here, somewhere.

Michael, Michael Motorcycle - Like Red Fred, it would make me wanna fight. I don't really know why. Motorcycles are cool, right? And like Michael, I mainly heard this from my big sister.

Famous Amos - A neighbor and friend of Mom and Dad's called me this. Then a few other people at church picked up on it. You might think it would make me fight, but it always made me laugh. Probably because my sister never said it.

Tigger - No one, and I mean no one get to call me this any more, except my momma. Got it? My momma gets to do whatever she wants. She is old and cranky and still bigger than me and I am still scared of her a little. But Sticky Man is not scared of you! I do still have a pretty good collection of Tigger gear, though.

I am sure there are others. I don't really want to know what my teachers called me when they were smoking in the book room. And I am sure church group leaders had a few, choice names for me. But these are the nicknames that mattered to me. And only one of these really matters any more.

That one made it all the way to the top of my list.