Most Native people from my home reservation of Tuscarora have nicknames. I would be hard pressed at times to be able to retrieve from my memory their given names because for some people I have only known their nicknames. There is even a game that I have played at various bridal or baby showers where you have to match a person’s nickname with their given name. Not an easy feat for younger people who have never even met someone on the list who have since been deceased, they are oblivious to both their given or nicknames.
I think my favorite nickname is “Jook:wha”, or “Jook” if you knew him well. His real name was Victor Johnson and sometimes when my brothers were in full on wrestling mode and one had the other pinned in a full nelson, the pinned then had to say “I love Uncle Vic” in order to be released from the hold. Vic wasn’t our real uncle that was just part of their lore. Vic or “Jook” didn’t drive, maybe he had a license but he never had a car that I can recall. He walked every day to one of the stores just off the reservation for his cigarettes, Pall Mall or Lucky Strikes I think. Back then we didn’t have smoke shops on every corner of the reserve like we do now. So he would have to walk to either “Red and White” on the corner of Garlow and Route 31, which is closed down now; or to “Mr. Thank You” on Upper Mountain Road, which is now called Ms. Thank You, as the proprietor’s daughter has taken over the store. The shaggy dog story of the reserve, or at least some people thought it funny, was to say that they would stop and ask Vic if he needed a ride to which he purportedly would reply “no thanks I’m in a hurry.”
There was a family, who originally lived on “Dog Street” who had a number of brothers long since gone, but every one of them had a nickname, I don’t even know what their real names were and I would have to go out and find someone older than me to ask. They were “Guggins”, “Basket”, “Tootsie”, and “Moh-Moh” all Jacobs’. These brothers were all hard drinking, fun loving men back in their day. Or so it seems that way because they each have various offspring by various women on the reservation, some from their wives, and some not. So I imagine that they all had some great times while they were still with us. Now “Basket” he seems to have cornered the market on partying hearty and he had many sons who followed in his footsteps, and they too had the best nicknames: Esh:ka or Pumpkin (Leonard), Cow (Milton), Bobby Big Head, Greg, Vaughn (Zeke). The majority of these young men all died young in alcohol related car accidents, one was shot to death by his own cousin during a dispute.
Recently I was talking to my sister Tanis on the phone, she lives in California and has been out there for over twenty years. She asked me if I remembered “Whitty-boy” and “Court”, to which I replied, nope I sure enough didn’t. I have heard their names before but have no recollection of either one of them. I know they lived on Upper Mountain Road and I know I could point to the exact spot where I think their old homestead used to be located, now since fallen into such disrepair that it was gone, or perhaps burned to the ground. I am not sure which. There is a field plowed around their old homestead that is overgrown with weeds and has large trees that probably grew in what was their front lawn.
Another way of distinguishing different generations from the next is to add an extension to their name as in “father’s name +boy”. So I assume that Whitty-boy had a father perhaps named Whitty also, or Whitlo or maybe Whitman. My brother Daniel is still Danny-boy even though he recently turned 63. There is my nephew Joe-boy who has to be over 27 now, Sammy-boy turned 50 two years ago. Petey-boy just had a boy of his own who can’t be Petey-boy-boy, so he is Skippy. Sometimes a different type of extension was used for married, or almost married people. When “Basket” used to be married to Patricia she was “Pat-Mike”, my sister-in-law is “Chrissy-Duck” which is my brother Donald’s nickname added to hers. My favorite couple who are now both deceased were “OJ” and “Jumbo” Wilson. Her real name was Orelle (I think) and his was Dallas. They were beautiful people with beautiful spirits and their offspring continue on in their tradition of giving to their church and helping others who are in need.
This tradition of nicknames is not localized to my reservation only, other reservations have some great ones too. I have seen a guy at Six Nations with his nickname “Jick” embroidered on his hat, “Jick” is usually a nickname for pubic hair. There was also “Luck-Luck” who comes from that reserve as well, you are a “Luck-Luck” if you start clearing off the table before everyone is done eating. You are an “Ella” if you hang around when your elders are talking and try to eavesdrop on their conversation, which is the nickname of a woman from my rez named Cinderella who liked to gossip. There was a couple named “Half-dead” and “Bone-slivers” and I am glad that I have never set eyes on either of them from the sounds of their nicknames it seems they wouldn’t be a pretty sight.
Our given names define who were are but I also believe that nicknames have a lot of meaning for people. Sometimes it seems that they define not who we are, but rather they define how others see us. My brother Wayne Clair’s nickname was “Sla”, I have no idea why, he is older than me and out of the house before I was born or shortly thereafter. My sister Vera Jane is called “Bela” I think because our siblings couldn’t say Vera. My brother David’s nickname was Crockett, no explanation necessary. My sister Denise is called “Peg” and sadly I think it is based on the fact that she had polio as a baby and has a limp from her many surgeries to correct the growth plate in her one leg that enabled her to walk. My brother Donald was “Duck” as I mentioned before. I never had a nickname and am not sure if that is a blessing or a curse.
No comments:
Post a Comment