A Rose by ALMOST Any Other Name

I was a bit of a handful as a child.  I guess you could say I had the tendency find myself in situations that would usually have my parents staring at me wondering from which section of hell did I hatch.  I'm not saying I wasn't awesome, but what 2 to 5 year old doesn't have you wishing you could run for the hills at least a few times.

Your identity is important as you grow and find yourself.  You find out what you like, what you love, what you hate, and what vegetables you are willing to spend all night staring at and even risk seeing the next morning for breakfast as you dig-in to your obstinacy of Not Eating them. Nicknames are also instrumental in conditioning who your are.  Given to you early, they can both describe and shape hobbies, looks, attitudes, and the general foundations of your childhood. I always thought I had a nickname, or more accurately, I thought I had an added exclamation to my name. 

Until I was 4 I thought my first name was Damnit David! Making my full name Damnit David Patrick McCormick.  Imagine my shock, neigh, my consternation when I found out that not only was Damnit not written on my birth certificate, but it was word not used in "pleasant conversations."  It was not until much later, around 7th grade, when I really understood the name and the impact on my life. 

I mean yeah, I may have eaten some dog's heart worm medicine when I was young.  And yeah, I may have covertly given my brussel sprouts to the dog under the dinner table (which he sold me out when he merely chewed them up and the spit them out on the floor).  And, ok yes, I did call some of our older car pool mates "Super Assholes" when I was three, but I was cute, so I could get away with.  There are many more supporting examples of how I achieved my nickname. But do you know how embarrasing it is to stand up on your first day of school, 1st grade, and announce this.  You have your new shirt, your new shoes, and your shiney new backpack and penicls, all sharped to a fine point, only to stand up and say "Hello, my name is Damnit David McCormick." The looks, the gasp of the teacher, the spit balls I had to endure the first few weeks.  I think it's a miricle I haven't served time in jail!

Now some of what I've said is a bit of a stretch on the truth, actually, only the last three sentences...and sometimes with the stupid things I've done, I actually am surprised I have never been fingerprinted and booked.  But, I know it has been the love and support of my parents which has kept me out of trouble and really allowed me to find my own identity.  So thanks guys...I won't hold the Damnit David thing against you!