For some reason lately I've been thinking about my father's side of the family and the names my grandmother gave her children and the names they actually ended up being known as. It's quite odd really.
There was a daughter named Ealah. There's a name you don't hear very often. My Daddy was born and named Jack but little Ealah reportedly would say, "Look at the little "felly" (trying to say fellow) and so he was known his whole life by everyone as "Felly."
Another son was named R.C. , really and truly, that was his legal name, just the initials, they stood for nothing I was told when I asked, his name was simply R.C., but he was called "Tom."
There was a son named " Carl Miller." That was his first name, and he was always called both names, I knew him as "Uncle Carl Miller."
The oldest son was named James but he was forever called "Bully." I know not why really unless he bullied the younger kids. He was the only one I never got to know really well, he always scared me a little, he was a gruff, tough talking man, and so maybe his name was appropriate.
Then there came another daughter named Janice but for reasons I do not know, we called her Cindy. As far as I know she was called Cindy from birth.
The two youngest sons were named Robert, called Bobby, which was normal and then Glenn, known as Glenn.
Strange family of names now that I really think about it. When you're a child you sometimes don't question things and just accept names. I grew up loving all these Aunts and Uncles, although there were lost years between us after my parent's divorced. To me it was normal to have an Aunt Ealah and an Uncle Carl Miller. Go figure.