Call Me_______________!

Fellow teacher Bill Shinn and I were talking in the mailroom recently, and he mentioned that his daughter was pregnant and expecting the baby in June. I told him that Lacey was expecting in May. His daughter Becky and my daughter Lacey were in the same graduating class at Karns, and we both shook our heads at the fact that our daughters were soon to become moms. Next Bill and I shifted our conversation to the “wonders” of grandparenthood. Neither of us quite “get it,” a fact of enormous comfort to me. When he discussion turned toward grandparent names, we both rolled our eyes at the absurdity in coming up with one.
My grandparents were working class folks who had little time for foolishness. I doubt that they much cared if their grandchildren called them anything. They were from a generation that believed that “children should be seen and not heard.” That meant they didn’t much care what names were used for them; they didn’t want to hear little voices yapping all the time.
We called both grandfathers “Papaw” and both grandmothers “Mamaw.” To distinguish which one, we used the last names “Rector” and “Balch.” That was it. Amy is from Cookeville and never heard those to tags for grandparents until she came to East Tennessee. (It’s hard to educate outsiders to the “right” ways things are done, the East Tennessee ways.)
Our kids called my mother Mamaw, but a different one came out for my Amy’s mom. I don’t know what adults were trying to teach Lacey and Dallas, but what came out was “Nini.” That sounds a bit strange, doesn’t it?
That’s my point. Adults have grand plans for teaching little ones names, but those toddlers have ways of screwing everything up. In the end the names that come out are terrible. One woman wanted to be called “GiGi.” It was a name that cracked up some people in the other side of the family because they once owned a dog by that name. A granddad was called “P-P;” I consider that name an excellent choice because it brings up something to which small children and old men think about much of the time.
Amy has already stated that she IS NOT a Mamaw. I’m not privy to the list of names she prefers, I have no doubt that they are elegant ones that fit the elegant woman that my wife is. She needs to be careful, however. Too many times, slick names are mispronounced so that they become ridiculous-sounding words. Some grandparents begin to answer to sounds that more resemble grunts than names. All the while, they are smiling and talking about how wonderful their grandchildren are.
I’ll admit that I have a hard time with any grandfatherly name. I viewed my grandparents as old. They didn’t have much of a sense of humor either. The idea that a new name might be associated with being old and grumpy doesn’t appeal to me in the least. Becoming a grandparent seems to be another one of those steps toward the finality of life, and I just naturally resist that, no matter how futile the struggle might be.
So, in about six months I’ll be a grandparent. It would be all right with me if we taught this coming child to call me “Joe.” I’ve also compiled a list of other names from other languages: Yeh-Yeh (Chinese), Nonno (Italian), Tito (Spanish), Farfar (Swedish), and Daadaa (Urdu/India). Isn’t it amazing how each of these sounds as if the person is a bit off kilter? Come to think of it, all those names sound as if they were first uttered by a child who was just beginning to speak. I’ll let you know what new name is assigned. Send me some suggestions that I can try to teach this new person.