I did the analyze your name thingy on facebook the other day and this is what it came back with:
Beautiful - Enlightened...Remarkable - Noble - Imaginative - Cheerful - Enlightened Gosh, how did they know? LOL
My friend
Evan said the C should stand for Crazy. All I have to say to that is: "Please ignore that man behind the red curtain!"
But it got me thinking about names and how we perceive people.
My name means:
The Bearer of Victory.
I have two brothers, both of whom have names which are considered abbreviated versions of longer names. Reggie and Kris.
My sister's name is Misty. Who do you expect when you see the name Misty McFadden? Maybe a wide-eyed, white girl with a long tail of blond hair.
Who do you expect when you see the name Bernice McFadden? Uh-huh, an old white, gray-haired woman or an old, black, gray haired woman.
My daughter's name is R'yane - a male name- minus the apostrophe. I so named her to cause confusion. I was young. But she seems to like it and that's all that matters. Her father has been known to refer to her as Ry-Ry..... Which brings me to nick-names.
I think we are the only sect of our family tree who does not subscribe to the nick-name thing. There is an entire limb of my family tree (on my father's side) that I cannot locate in public records because the people who are still living only knew those deceased family members by their nicknames.
That won't be a problem with this limb of the tree because my mother has always been dead set against nick names. Probably because she had one as a child. Putney. Yeah, that left a bad taste in her mouth.
People tend to want to call me Bernie -- lemme tell you I hate that name. I absolutely abhor it and am quick to tell you so. "Uhm, yeah...my name is Bernice, not Bernie."
Briefly in high school I had the nickname Gucci -- so named because at the time i excelled in dressmaking and had aspired to work in the fashion industry. I can't sew a straight line now. so I guess things happen for a reason.
I have two friends that have adopted the same nickname for me -- which is interesting, because one I've known since she was born and the other I met in high school -- they came to know each other in 1982 and since then have only seen each other in passing. So how is it they both came up with the same nickname? I have no idea. The world is a wacky place. They call me Bean.
It's a nickname filled with affection and so I graciously accept it. But no, you can't call me that.
The only other name I will answer to is Geneva, because I'm paid to do so. But you might have to call it out a few times before I realize you're actually speaking to me. This has already happened twice while I was out on the street. But that's another story.
I often close my emails with
Peace, B - and that is just because I'm too lazy to type out my full name, it does not give permission to refer to me as such, unless of course you are a close friend or family member. But do you know complete strangers have emailed me using that abbreviation? Hey B....Yo B... Dear B.... UGH!
That has the same effect on me as if you dragged your fingernails across a chalk board.
Now I will admit that I am guilty about enforcing the proper usage of "The Handle" (as my mother calls it)
Ms. Mr. Mrs. -- where my child is concerned. Maybe because I was 22 years old when I had her, and that was not at the top of my priority list. I don't know...but she refers to my friends, most of whom are my age or older, by their first names. Although if she sees some gray in your hair she will use the proper Handle.
Her friends call me Ms. McFadden, but I prefer Ms. Bernice - because Ms. McFadden is my mother.
The children of those friends that my daughter addresses by their first names, call me
Mi-Ma or
Auntie.
Although, I do have a friend who has a 17 year old and 10 year old and I have always been simply Bernice to them. No problem. I'm cool with it. Just make sure the tone is respectful.
My Aunt May gave birth to 12 children, and only three or four call her Mama. All the others call her May, including the grandchildren, the great-grandchildren and the great-great grandchildren.
Why this whole, long litany on names? Well truthfully, I'm bored and on top of that I'm fiending for some Pinkberry yogurt so bad I'm hallucinating. But I'm too too lazy to go out into this icky weather to get it. It's not like there's a Pinkberry down the street or even in my neighborhood. I've got to jump in my car or get on the train and I just can't bring myself to do it and so I'm miserable. And you know what they say about misery, right?
Bernice L. McFadden
