It’s the time of year when Mother Nature can’t make up her mind. It goes from warm to cold and back again.
That was one of the unpleasant things about living in the Midwest. In late winter, the freeze/thaw cycle. Frozen ground, one day, and the next day, mud. There was nothing beautiful about dirty snow.
Other unpleasant things: Being attacked by pieces of blanket fuzz. Blanket fuzz went straight for the eyes or nose. Which brought up another subject–nicknames.
One of my grade school friends was called “Fuzz” or “Fuzzy.” Did you have a nickname when growing up? Perhaps, an unflattering one, that you’d just as soon forget?
In my town there was “Punk” Dowland, who was short in stature. “Peachy” Leach–the nickname, an obvious play on words. Other nicknames seemed strange without knowing the history behind them, for example “Push” Banks, and “Slats” Rands.
Of course there were those blessed with common nicknames–“Buzz,” “Butch,” “Red,” “Dutch,” “Moose,” “Rabbit.” Who could forget “Hot Rod” Conroy?
I wanted a cool nickname, never had one. Shortened versions of my given name, like Billy, Bill, Willy, or Will didn’t count. There were two unflattering ones–“Shaky,” and “Ice Blue.”
To those nicknamed “Skippy” I hold no grudges. Pardon me, but, I always hated that name.