Howya doing, Shorty? May I call you Shorty? Or do you prefer something more descriptive, like Red or Fats or Zit?
It’s your nickname and it’s as inescapable as gravity. Many of us pick up these appellations when we’re kids and, though the freckles or sunburn or nose pimple may fade, the nickname does not. You can grow up to be a billionaire tiger of industry, a real pillar of your community and an American institution unto yourself. Doesn’t matter. When you meet friends from the old days, they will address you as they always have. Namely: “Hey! It’s Pee Pants!” We want to know your nickname and how it came to be. The more embarrassing the better, of course, and if you’ve got photos to go with it, we’ll squeal with delight. That’s why they call us Oil Can, you know.
Show us yours, we’ll show you ours. Send your stories to Mark (not Mia) LaFlamme at mlaflamme@sunjournal.com, or write to him in care of the Sun Journal, 104 Park. St., Lewiston, ME 04240
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