Losing your name in the mists of time

Losing your name in the mists of time

1948 six months old Christened Ian with my older brother by fifteen months.

I was 4 years old when I lost my name to one half of the family at least, and at sixty-seven years old it appears that I have lost it once more. I am in no doubt you are asking yourself, “How do you lose your name it’s impossible.

Well we will return to when I was four years old when my father who never wanted me never called me Ian. [As written in the story, Dunce at the Back of the Class]. He never used my name or if he did it would have been talking about me and not to me. It was always your boy, Dora, when speaking to my mother about me. After I was twelve years old he slipped up now and again. I knew the times because he would shut his mouth and walk off without finishing what he was going to say. I would then hear him say to my mother, “You had better talk to your boy.”

There was no doubt I was his blood he never flinched the point that it was him that produced me. My father used words like “you” and “boy” when speaking directly to me, and just to annoy him I would walk away not taking any notice of him. He would send my brother running after me who would say, “Dads talking to you, Ian.” I would turn around with a smile on my face and say, “I never heard you mention my name, Dad.” He would then like all the times before control his anger and walk away before not saying anything at all.

Ten years old and my Father had forgotten my name.

At nineteen I joined the UK Special Forces, and because of my haircut which was a crew cut in the front with straight back and sides I was nicknamed Spike. It stuck with me for fourteen years while serving my country. I cannot remember my first wife ever calling me Ian, I do remember a few choice names she called me other than Spike, but we won’t go there.

Known by the whole of the Special Forces as Spike

Even when transferring to another unit and posted to Germany, my nickname of Spike had preceded me. At the airport the army driver said welcome to 20 OFP, Spike. It was a bit of a shock because I had never seen the guy before in my life. Then for two years in Germany I was never called Ian.

I remarried and you would think that things would now be put right, but not a chance. Lorna told me that although she liked me enough to marry me later in our relationship, she never liked the name Ian so she renamed me Lee. The name stuck with me until she died almost seven years ago.

Lorna Called me Lee, my daughters call me Dad.

 


My mother died almost three years ago, and that was the last time my name was mentioned in speech. I talk to my friend Karen in America on YIM, and I believe it to be the only time my name is mentioned. I really do appreciate someone calling me Ian.

My daughters call me Dad, but it is not my name. Even their girlfriends call me dad when talking to me. Yes it is a nice gesture, but I sometimes wonder if it was worth me being Christened Ian in the first place?

Be well Ian