What’s in a nickname… Why are they given… How are they chosen?
Most nicknames begin from a baby like my husband’s early nickname of “Beans“… given because he was thin like a beanpole as a young boy. He outgrew that name for the most part except when addressed by Uncles, Johnny and Frankie… until their last breath… they called him “Beans.” Me, the only nickname was one I had when I was small… “Poot” given to me by Granddaddy McKinley… you can only guess why. Thank Heavens, it didn’t follow me into adulthood. That nickname was probably why I stood up in church nursery school and recited this poem… coincidently that Granddaddy McKinley taught me; Mama wasn’t happy with him.
I had a little dog named Jack,
tied him to the railroad track…
Along came a train saying “Toot Toot”
little Jack went “Poot Poot.”
Granddaddy probably taught me that before I was even 5 years old… part of his dry humor… him thinking it extremely funny whenever I said it out loud.
Mama had the nickname of “Little ET” after her father “ET“… she would get so mad when teased with that name… but it was an honor… as she was feisty like him. She always talked of how she could outrun all the boys and beat up most of them when they called her “Little ET”. Later in life she was just called “Kinley” by many friends.
My father had the early nickname of “Fats”… because he was extremely thin in growing up… it was a nickname given to him by his best friend, Henry Sisson. His early Navy photos definitely showed his thinness… wonder what his Navy buddies called him? As a young girl, I always thought he was called “Fats” because of his growing beer belly… not because he had been very thin as a young boy… only learning the true reason for the name after I grew up; wish I asked more on that name.
It’s not only people who have nicknames… often places do and many around Mama’s hometown had a few… later to even have streets named after them. After viewing an older Greene County (Georgia) map, it reminded me of those names I often had heard from my mother… and wondering how they came to be.
Mosquito Crossing... an area not far from Granddaddy’s farm, but no one seems to know of how the name came to be known. I don’t ever remember mosquitos being around his farm… maybe they only gathered in that specific area… as I read there was a marsh nearby.
Syrup Mill Crossing… was a crossroad about a mile down from Granddaddy’s, and in one of the corners a syrup mill once stood; granddaddy always carried his sugar cane to be squeezed into sorghum syrup there. Mama often went with him as a young girl… the owner would sit her up on the horse who walked round and round to squeeze the canes; she always sips of syrup while riding.
Granddaddy would pile the canes in his wagon, along with cans and glass jars to bring the syrup home in; a portion of what was produced was given to the owner for payment. Often the owner would sit her up on one of the mules that walked ’round and ’round in squeezing the juice from the cane… and if she was lucky, he’d hand her a small can of syrup to enjoy on her ride.
My mother rode the bus daily to school… at least when she was on-time. Many mornings, the bus driver sat to wait on her if she was having a bad hair day. Mama was very fussy about her hair, and it had to be just right, or she wasn’t going to school. In being the first pickup of the morning, made her the last drop off in the afternoon… and sometimes the bus drive, Mr. Copeland, made her wait on him as he’d stop to visit at the syrup mill before dropping her off. Mama laughed in telling me this, as she knew it was punishment for making him wait in the morning… but she didn’t dare complain as she sat on the hot bus.
Slip Rock, located on Slip Rock Road, is one of the places I remember and whenever visiting my grandparents in Siloam, we often went to cool off for the afternoon. It was located on the property of Dr. Lewis and open for all at the time we went. At that time, it was well taken care of, with everyone picking up after themselves. I don’t remember the name of the waterway that fed through, but it was a clear sandy stream which ran down and over long rocks into a pool of water below. Through the years, the constant water flow created very slippery rocks… sliding you down into the water below.
Through the years, the nearby dirt road leading to “Slip Rock” became known as Slip Rock Road. I was lucky enough to have been able to enjoy it when I was young… but it’s no longer accessible due to people abusing it in breaking glass in the water area and leaving trash; the owners eventually let the area grow up in order to keep people out. I remember many humid afternoons of walking barefoot through the small stream that led to the large rocks where the water ran over… creating a very slippery slide down into a pool of water below. Besides the large sliding rock, there were several large flat rocks for sunbathing.
Me, (right) sitting alongside the stream on rock… on the left is the large sliding area down into a pool of water
As a young girl, I enjoyed walking through that stream of clear water that led to the rocks… the bottom was sandy and shallow… which felt good to your bare toes. Sadly, in later years in the late 70’s, the area was posted “no trespassing” dues to people going in and leaving their trash and broken bottles. What once was a local haunt for young people… became only known in stories.
Flat Rock… A place I never visited, but often heard stories of. It was what seemed like extremely large flat areas of all rock…where families enjoyed picnics and celebrated holidays. It was often said it was part of the roots of the larger Stone Mountain outside of Atlanta. I always thought it funny in how the large rocks in the nearby fields were said to be part of the roots of Stone Mountain. Greene County was known for having large rocks everywhere… especially in all the open fields. Mama talked of a really large one in her father’s back field… it was her favorite place to sit in solitude whenever she wanted to be alone.
Mama with her parents and sister-in-law, Katherine, at Flat Rock… and from what I’ve been told, it seemed to be the area of where the locals would picnic on Sunday afternoons… as usually the farmers didn’t work on that day, as it was the Sabbath… and there wasn’t supposed to be any work done on that day. Today it is now part of a working quarry there. (LtoR: Ola McKinley (grandmother), Katherine (daughter in law), Helen McKinley (mother), Edgar McKinley (grandfather)
Thanks for Reading, Jeanne
To read more 2024: 52 Ancestor Stories 52 Weeks, click HERE.
Another post on Nicknames I wrote in 2020 can be found Here.
© 2024, copyright Jeanne Bryan Insalaco; all rights reserved
Everyone Has a Story 
I don’t think people give nicknames the same way these days. From what I’ve seen, they tend to simply shorten longer names. I was called Suzie when I was younger and eventually it became Sue. Only in their later years did my parents call me Susanne. I still have old friends who call me Sue. Great post.
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Yes I agree on nicknames of today.
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