You Can't Tell the Players Without a Scorecard

Saturday afternoon, Boo-dee was watching me hold Mackenzie.

"Have you given her a nickname yet?"

I haven't. Oh, I call her "Pumpkin", "Bright Eyes", and "Little Girl", but generic nicks do not qualify here.

A bit of background.

When Janice and I fell in love, I dropped three or four on her right away. Janswell, Jansmo, Ookie Kabuki, and one or two that have their roots in x-rated mentality and will be mentioned only to acknowledge their existence. No sense re-plowing that field.

Well, as the kids came along, and the nicknames began to pile up on each of them, there came the day when Janice - in all earnestness - complained that I never gave her nicknames anymore. I still called her by her nicknames, but I had not added one in - say - 15 years. (Actually, I added "Dear", but that is a generic.) Even today, I see that as being normal. I have not given Jim Coe a new nickname in over 20, nor Steve Fout, nor Bryan. I do not believe I ever nicknamed Ed. I did give Ross a nickname in the past several months, but our friendship is a newer one, and this is the only one I have bestowed. (One day on the golf course, I had hit a drive of perhaps 310 yards, and Ross said, "Yes, well-struck, Aged One." Marc Tompkins thought that was funny. I guess I did, too. (Understand that Tommy T is 36, Ross 40 - I am a tad advanced in years, comparatively.) Before I knew it, I had replied, "Thank you, My Rotund Companion." Marc ("Tommy Tee") chimed in, "Game. Set. Match.")

I am not one of those people who nicknames everyone. I do nickname my children, and I nicknamed Janice extensively. These are the only people I have ever taken to nicknaming with anything more than casual inspiration.

I was walking the unhallowed halls of Franklin Heights High School in Rick-like fashion one day in 1969, when a weird blinding aura enveloped me. I heard a voice say, "That shallst have a nickname." None of my friends had ever nicknamed me. (Except for Bob Heuter, who - in sixth grade, in Baltimore - walked up to me on the playground at recess and stated with conviction, "From now on, your name is 'The Sheik'." It did not stick.) I decided to assume a secret nickname, "Rainbow". I told no one, of course - if I did, it would not have been a secret nickname.

I met Jansmo, fell madly in love, and nicknames fell out of my mouth routinely. I was consumed by native affection for her, and it showed up in many forms, including rampant nicknaming.

Six years later, Laura came into our lives, and the alternative handles erupted.

In writing these blogs, I have seen that my tendency to switch in mid-story what I am calling a person might be confusing, so this is to provide a glossary of personage.

I am tired, and will write about each person, and his and her nicknames, in upcoming pieces. Although there are more names, Laura is Woo; Sarah, Boo; Grace, Bo; Isaac, Pook. I usually refer to Janice by her given name, or as (One-of-the-kid's-name-here)'s mother. If I am in one of those dark moods, The Queen of Darkness. Fortunately, these primordial moods rarely surface, as no one benefits when actions in this world threaten to awaken forces from mysterious places better left undisturbed.

Grace and Mackenzie arrived at 7. Grace had already had some aggravations in her morning, but she was comedic in description, a responsive tendency which will serve her well as a parent.

After I fed Mackenzie, she fell to sleep. Lucky me. I had much paperwork to do to prepare for my day. I put Mackenzie in the truck at 9:15, and we were on time to show a 5-acre parcel I have listed over by Augusta Mall. I carried her with me as I showed the prospective buyer, and her developer the wooded lot. She took to it well, and even as we were navigating the dense undergrowth, there was no body message (tenseness, whimpering) of concern from the Little Girl. (Van Morrison: "Oh, hand me down my big boots; I believe I'll go walkin' in the woods, oh my darlin'. Where's there's no comin', and there's no goin'.") I hope to get a contract this week.

Next stop was the bank, to get a money order for Sarah. The customer service lady asked about Mackenzie and eventually asked if I were Dad or Granddad. I told her, "Holden". My teller gave me - at my request - four ounces of tepid water, so I could whip up some formula for The Kid. She had bolted eight ounces, and was showing some hunger.

Then to BiLo. Not much happening, but I did get some great soft mozzarella fresca and a semi-soft Bel Paese Italian cheese for half price. Bought some pears - they were so good last week - for half price, and some fresh pineapple cubes for half price. I was "fished in" on one of those Adkins drinks, since it was 1.79 off its 2.39 price. A lady next to me told me that they taste good, and are filling. Oh, yeah, red-tipped romaine at .99/lb.. Beautiful stuff. I bought some Pizzalicious Pringles in a small can for .29. (When Ike and Grace came to get Bright Eyes, they disappeared. Pook said they were very good.)

Post Office - mailed SPB's money order.

Dropped on down to Spears Signs and finalized our commercial sign with Jamie. Afterward, we went to his house to see what I thought we could do to sell his house at Heard and Wrightsboro. He and his wife are deciding if they want to list it with Sand Hills.

Oil change at Jiffy Lube. Mackenzie scarfed another 3 ounces in the waiting room.

Up to Iran Carpets, to visit with Paul Boulous, who has a five-month old of his own. Bryan - his father-in-law - had mentioned to me that Paul might be able to help me with a Conifer Place listing. Paul told me the details of that situation, and offered whatever help he might be able to give, but he made it clear that it is a longlonglong shot. Nothing ventured, . . .. Paul and I had a wonderful talk about non-traditional relationships (my expression, here only, and for the first time). Paul is significantly older than his wife, my former neighbor, Cazenove, and the two of them have now created a blended family, adding a new daughter to Paul's son and daughter - who I believe are 9 and 12. We agreed that not everything may occur in the way one might hope, but that good people will by-and-large do good deeds, and after that, it is politics and posturing. (The theme of "window dressing" from yesterday's piece.)

Up the hill to my house, in time to meet Bit Brittingham, for an estimate for a new water supply line to my house. Bit was over-scheduled, and called to see if he could come later in the day.

Got a call from a client, who wants to accelerate the marketing of her 3-acre parcel on Barton Chapel Road. She agreed that I could contact a prospective buyer, with whom I have been negotiating for three months, and offer the property at a lower price. I did, and he accepted. Now, his board must approve the deal.

Called a mortgage broker, to push along the deal for the Florida couple. It looks like a "go". Called inspector, scheduled an inspection.

More paperwork.

Ross called, seeking assistance in re-wiring some early-20th century chandeliers and fixtures (one part actually was stamped "Pat. 1896") in a grand house he is about to put on the market. He has determined that the building is a Henry Wendell design - a fact which has been lost in the murkiness of time. Wendell is one of the two prominent architects (with Willis Irvin) whose designs shaped the appearance of Summerville in the early 1900s. The building Ross has listed has been owned by the same family for 46 years, and lacks the stylized exterior details of Wendell's other designs, so its genesis has not been noted in the tours and lectures on Wendell-designed homes. Al Cheatham - who will likely be regarded as this era's Wendell (or - perhaps more-appropriately - Willis Irvin) when Mackenzie's grandkids are looking to buy their first house on The Hill - gives a wonderful lecture on the Wendell homes, so Ross will contact him to tour the building. I went to help Ross after Grace and Isaac showed up to get Mackenzie, after school. We had fun, and knocked out five repairs in a couple of hours. Tomorrow, we hope to attack the repair of the lighting behind the leaded glass skylight in the home's atrium.

When I got home, I returned Laura's call. She had been at my house when I was working with Ross. She and I went to Surrey Center to try to get her Jeep running. We succeeded - I think! She was able to drive it home, at least.

Made myself a Cajun shrimp and angel hair dinner - with some six-pepper slaw that I made a few days ago. Mm. (Boo had talked me into buying some shrimp (at half price) last week, and I had made the dish for her yesterday just before she headed back to school. I figured if I didn't make some for myself, I'd never get any.) I saw that Grace had vaporized the contents of the last jar of chili when she and Ike showed up, so I moved on to the red sauce (as a side dish for the pasta) that I threw together this weekend. It's a little chocolatey tasting, but not without a bit of charm. Finished with a pear. WOW! If you enjoy a perfect pear (I used to say that Janice had a perfect pair), get thee to the BiLo before Wednesday - when the specials change for the week.

Tommy Tee called - looking for a building upon which to work his renovation magic. I will try to round one up for him. It needs to happen quickly.

Grace called as I typed this. We share a car, and it is going into the shop. She and Kristin were dropping it at C&C Automotive, and Bo wanted to know what to write on the form. Also, she wanted to vent about what I would call "repeated boundary disputes" concerning her mother's husband. In addition to feelings of trespass in her own sphere, Grace is concerned that her mother suffers emotional and verbal mistreatment, and risked openly saying as much. I asked her to listen carefully, to respectfully ask for acknowledgement of her own boundaries, and to ponder the dynamic overnight. Her mother's boundaries are her mother's responsibility. We will discuss it over breakfast tomorrow.

Grace also informed me that she has been given detention, for conduct unbecoming a student in Ethnic Drumming class. We will discuss this, too. I feel that the faculty and administration have bent over backwards to help Grace, and I am intent on helping Grace see these wonderful folks as resources for the betterment of Mackenzie's life. "You don't have to suck butt, Gracious, but I insist that you work to understand their positions, and to start from there with utter respect and appreciation." Grace was not defensive. She said she would talk with me about it tomorrow morning.

Dr. Woo just called. She has read the first four entries. She likes them. "I like 'Historic Children' the best. I have to admit that as I read it, tears came." I wonder: why am I writing these things? Is it to make my children cry?


Apology: I am tired, and this entry sucks. I like the first four entries because each - to me - seems integrated, about something. This is the meandering of a stressed and fatigued mind. I will edit this, or delete it entirely. You have noted that there is less storytelling, and more fact-giving. EXACTLY what I am not going to do!!! (But, Peace, Y'all.)