So, my son Jack is named after my dad, John.
But my grandmother never called him John. She called him Jack, and usually, Jackie. She had to name him John, though, because you just gave your kids names from the Bible, my dad said.
So everyone who knows my dad from before he was, oh, maybe 45, calls him Jack.
And I was named after him — Jacqueline.
And my entire family, and everyone I know from before I turned 14 and moved and went to high school, calls me Jackie.
It’s a name I only allow old, old friends and family to say. From them, it’s sweet. Otherwise, I kind of hate it. I like my given name.
When narrowing down names for our kids, Philip and I decided to stick with family names, just to make life easier. So when we found out we had a son, it was Jack.
I’ve always wanted to call him “Jackie,” but I can never bring myself to say it. It just feels weird.
So it’s been truly wonderful to hear Viv (named Genevieve, after Philip’s grandmother) starting to call him “Jackie.” It began as just a “Hey, Jackie! Come play with me!” And now she says it all the time.
And so do I. I just tried it on for size one day, and it felt weird, but I kept doing it. I don’t know why. I wanted to honor my dad and my grandmother or family history or who knows. Maybe it was just so cute the way Viv says it.
Today I called him “Jackie” out in public. And I kind of like it. And he responded, so maybe he likes it, too.