A Rose by Any Name …

FEATURED POSTS

July 10, 2017

LITTLE CORKY CUNNINGHAM

There was this black guy I knew in Vietnam, whose name I can’t remember, but whose nickname I’ll never forget. He was a replacement, sent over to join our unit after we had taken some casualties.

He was introducing himself, trying to fit into a very macho, kick-ass male environment, so he tells us that back on the street everybody called him “Young Blood.” The problem was he had just arrived in Vietnam and he was sweating like a pig, and he had a plump face that glistened in the tropical sun.

“You’re not back on the street anymore,” one of the black troopers informed him. “We’re going to call you Juicy.” And from then on, that was his name. He turned out to be a good guy and when I finally shipped out a few months later, he was doing fine. I don’t really know what happened to him after that, but I hope he survived and that he’s OK and is living happily someplace with a bunch of loving young kids calling him his new nickname – Gramps.

Nicknames are a wonderful thing. I came from a family that had nicknames for everybody, and so did my wife Carmela. My dad had very kinky hair, and his nickname was “Kink” As a baby I had hair that curled into corkscrew-style ringlets, so I was called “Corky.”

I hated the name because I was a pudgy little boy. Back then, when I went out to play with the kids in the neighborhood, our moms would call us when it was time for supper. “Corky, dinner time,” my mom would sing out.

“Did she call you Porky,” the other boys would ask. “No, it’s Corky, not Porky,” I would tell them. Then, she would call again, and those nasty little bastards would say that they were pretty sure she was calling “Porky” even though they really knew that my name was Corky.

My real name wasn’t that much better. George became “Georgie Porgy pudding and pie.” I’m not complaining. The truth is I think all that teasing made me – like the boy named Sue – a little tougher and a little more prepared for life.

The best nicknames are spur of the moment tags that stick with you. A friend of mine, a short, little, wide-eyed, giggly female, tells about visiting the red light district as a tourist in Amsterdam years ago and one of the prostitutes in a window asking her, “Whatcha looking at, Small Fry?”

Years later, she still laughs about it.

My mom was Flossie, my brother William was Bill, Willie, and Billy. My brother Charles was Chuck and C.K. Carmela was Mo, and her sisters were Toot, Cat(s**t), and Nuke. Her brother Mike was both Pineapple and Haji Baba – or sometimes just Haj.

Our niece Mallory is Mal-Z, Jillian is Jilly Bean, Olivia is Livi, and Bailey is Boo, Bee, Beep, and to her father – Shorty. Our niece Amber is Ambrosia. Amber’s son had a meltdown the first day of kindergarten when the teacher called him Dennis. He knew his real name was Rat Boy.

Carmela’s talkative Deputy Sheriff dad was Silent Joe.

My buddy Larry LaRue is better known as Lash – a reference to the 50s movie cowboy Lash LaRue, who used a whip instead of a six-shooter.

Our dog Henry is also Peaches and Weasel Butt.

I’ve had bosses who have been dubbed, The Incredible Shrinking Brain (Brain for short), No Nuts, the Littlest Angel, and Mikey (who preferred to be called Spike).

And who can forget our politicians from Honest Abe, to Teddy, Silent Cal, Ike, Tricky Dick, Governor Moonbeam, the Peanut Farmer, Tip, “W,” the Obamanation, and The Donald.

So what’s the point? Nicknames are seldom flattering. The best ones are bestowed on us by others. And the more they sting, the better they are. Or as our families used to say: We only tease you because we love you.

Sometimes, you wish they would just love you a little less.

– George Lee (Corky) Cunningham

Do you have a dissenting opinion or any opinion at all on the subject? Contact me at george@georgeleecunningham.com and let me know. Meanwhile, you can always subscribe and get an email reminder of blog postings. Your name will not be shared and you may cancel at any time.

News

April 17, 2024

Minor Character

Sometimes I feel like a minor character in one of those really long James Michener historic novels. I’m one of the guys they check in on a couple of times during the course of the book and one more time when he finally kicks the bucket. In truth, that suits me just fine. I don’t want to be one of the major players – those guys who lie, cheat, sleep around, make a lot of money, kill a lot of people, and then then suffer a tragic death on Christmas Eve. I just want to be me – plugging along, having some fun, loving the same woman for years, and then quietly passing away.

March 25, 2024

Cereal Killer

I have almost given up on cereal. As a younger man, I loved a sugary treat. As an old man, who has to watch his diet, I find myself checking labels on everything. Sugar is the enemy. For instance, Cap’n Crunch – a former favorite of my wife – contains: Corn Flour, Sugar, Oat Flour, Brown Sugar, Palm and/or Coconut Oil, Salt, Reduced Iron, Yellow 5, Niacinamide, Yellow 6, BHT, Thiamin, Mononitrate, Pridoxined Hydrochloride, Rioflavin, and Folic Acid. My choice: plain old Shredded Wheat. Ingredients: wheat and BHT (a harmless preservative). Not a taste treat, but at least I’ll live to tell about it

Highway Memorials

Driving across country nowadays, we notice a growing number of roadside displays – flowers, crosses, and ribbons – marking the sites where people apparently died in traffic accidents. I do understand mourning the passing of somebody you love, but I’m not sure I see the point of putting a display at the place along the road where they died. Even sadder is the fact that flowers wilt and highway trash piles up around the displays, making them just another sad reminder of life cut short.

December 5, 2023

Love Motives

I often tell my wife I love and adore her, mainly because I do and also because women like to hear the man in their life actually say the words. But during one conversation I had to confess that some times when I say it – especially when she is irked and giving me the deadly silent treatment – I am also reminding myself of that fact so I don’t start yelling and slamming doors. Is that so wrong?

Being Mortal

I am officially an old man. Sometimes I forget, then I look in the mirror and there it is. The truth is that life has its limits, and that is how it should be. There are new generations coming up, ready to step up and take our place. They are welcome to it. If you have reached old age, you have made some blunders in you life. If you think otherwise, then you are indeed a fool. You can warn the new generations about the mistakes you made, but they are oblivious. This too is as it should be. It’s their world, and it’s on them to screw it up for the generations to follow, just as we did for them.

Good Deeds

There is a saying that no good deed goes unpunished. It’s mostly – but not always – true. The problem with good deeds is that most people who do them expect to be appreciated. In actuality, good-deed recipients are more often resentful about it, rather than grateful. Nobody likes being the person who has to rely on the good will of others. So do good deeds for your own sake – because it makes you feel better, not because you want to be feel appreciated.

Recreational Bitching

Did you ever notice that some people – maybe more people than not – like to complain about everything? In the summertime, it’s too hot. In the wintertime it’s too cold. Health care is too expensive. Young people are too rude. Old people move too slowly. There ought to be a law against anything and everything that might make one unhappy. It’s recreational bitching, and we all do it to greater or lesser extent. Maybe once in a while, it might make sense to listen to how we talk and how we think. Most of us are just doing the best that we can.