Nicknames

During my adolescent years in rural Indiana, my parents called me “Mr. Perfect,” because unlike most teenagers (and my five siblings) I kept my cubbyhole of a room neat as a pin; my closet, organized by clothing color; my hair—heaven forbid—not a follicle out of place. For me everything had to be just so.

This meticulousness and order for which I have always strived for in my personal life worked its way into my professional life. My first full-time writing job—copy editor at a small daily—proved to be the perfect match. At the paper, my cohorts referred to me as “Eagle Eye,” for I could spot grammar behaving badly only seconds after glancing at a page proof. I have a joyful habit of spotting typos on menus, in books, and even (yikes!) in the New York Times. Words, I discovered, were much easier to keep in check than, say, my nervous habits: gnawing at a corner of my mouth, talking rapidly when conversing with strangers, picking at the dry skin around my cuticles.

My Dad used to pick at his cuticles, too. He also used to refer to me as his “Sugar Plum Bum.” Over the years, I learned to adore and appreciate this unique term of endearment for its cheeky connotation that I could be sweet AND mischievous; although when I think of the expression today, I’m swiftly transported back to my dad’s bedside as he took his final breath—and the torture of telling my mom of his passing shortly after she emerged from the tranquility of her evening bath.

Oh, the torture words can deliver. Name-calling in particular packs that cruel power, pummeling the wind out of you with its brutality. As an awkward prepubescent teen who felt more comfortable around females than males and preferred volleyball to baseball, my year-and-a-half younger brother Joe didn’t help matters much by calling me a “Fag!” whenever we quarreled—usually over something as silly as him borrowing one of my Izod polos without asking. Of course if he did ask, I’d say no.

Hostile or kind, these nicknames offer snapshots into my past that have all helped define who I am today. That is their magic. Meticulous, sweet and gay - that's me. And I wouldn't have it any other way.