When I was but wee lad I was called Jody. That’s right…my parents wanted a girl. At the age of six I saw the movie “Old Yeller” where the little girl in the movie was named Jody. That was it, from then on I was Joe…I was very adamantly Joe.
Only one person consistently called me Jody; my cousin Neils.
Now cousin Neils never even knew me accept in family conversation. My family lived in California, his in Pennsylvania. Apparently my Aunt was not advised of my name change so if I was mentioned at all, it was by the name Jody.
When my family moved back to the east coast, Cousin Neils called me Jody. He claimed he could just not get used to calling me Joe, but I think he did it because it aggravated me. Cousin Neils has always called me Jody.
In my first book, “Maybe It’s Just Me” I wrote about this and in effect called Neils out on this name thing. I pointed out that every time I saw him, which was several times a decade at best, he asked to be called by a new name. It went from Neils to Niles, to Nelson, to Nels, to Niel and finally I have settled on Nils. I never thought Nils would see this book and yet he did. He got the point and decided to call me Joe.
We keep up with each other loosely on Facebook and he now only refers to me as Joe. Sixty years of being annoyed by his calling me Jody and now I somehow miss it. What’s up with that?
Nils recently underwent a rather serious risky operation. It was thankfully successful.
Nils, if you still want to call me Jody I will accept it from you and only you.