Playing the Name Game

By Shirley/Shelly/Shane Dickerson
AKA Sharie Derrickson

My whole life, no one has ever gotten my name right. I was born Sharie Dawn Calhoun, and legend has it, I was named, rather auspiciously I must add, after two Frankie Valli songs; “Sherry,” and “Dawn,” although this has been widely disputed by Frankie Valli experts who I know. It seems that, while the song “Sherry” was, indeed, a number one hit in 1962, the year I was born, the song “Dawn” was not on the airwaves until 1963. It has long been speculated by people in my family who like to speculate, that my father, who chose my name, knew Frankie Valli and was given a heads-up about the song “Dawn.”

As I said, this is mere speculation of the part of people, mainly me. It makes me wonder if maybe both songs were named after me, and not the other way around. Anyway, I am now cosmically tied to Frankie Valli for life and am driven to buy his albums, to watch “Grease” over and over, and to walk around the house singing my own name in a falsetto voice. To some extent, my name is a curse because those two songs often get stuck in my head for days at a time.

So, anyway, even though I have two names that were, at one time, top ten hits, no one seems to get not only my first name right, but my last name also. I became used to all of the ways my name could be misspoken or miswritten. Even my first set of my Navy enlistment papers were wrong – Chevy Cowhoun. Now, I ask you, do I look like a Chevy Cowhoun? I mean, really. (Sidebar: If I do look like a Chevy Cowhoun, please don’t tell me, okay.)

I try and keep positive, and whenever anyone butchers my name, I tell my self it could be worse. I could be named George Foreman number 15, Blanket Jackson or John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt – I guess I can live with Chevy Cowhoun.

When I my husband proposed, I was real glad. Not just because I love him and all of that, but because I would become Sharie Derrickson, which I think sounds pretty author-ish, although I think my name would be way cooler if it were Countess Sharie Von Derrickson.
I was so excited. I marched down the aisle thinking to myself, “Yippee, no more Chevy Cowhoun. Yaaaay.”

Then, the minister turned to the audience and said, “May I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Timothy Dickerson.”

“That’s not our name,” I snapped.

“Oh, sorry,” he said. “I mean Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Dickerson.”

“Still not right,” I said. “Look at the paperwork.”

“Okay, got it now,” he said, smiling. “May I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Derkerson.”

“Whatever,” I said, scowling.

And that’s the way it has been for more than 17 years. Here is a partial list of names I now answer to:

Shelly Dickinson
Charles Dickens
Sharon Dorkerson
Cheryl Deckerson
Leif Erickson
Sally Sickenson
Susie Simpleton
Sonny Bonoson
and, Mom.

My husband responds to:

Tom Derelictson
Tad Dummyson
Troy DaVinci-son
Tim Erlickson
Ted Kazinskison
The guy who carries her luggage,
and, Dad.

But, most who get our name wrong call us Tom and Shane Dickerson, and, we used to correct people, but we stopped doing that a long time ago. Now, if the UPS man comes and says, “Is this the address for Tom and Shane Dickerson?” we both just say, “Sure. Why not.”

My daughter is even in on it. Last year, we took her to a store that sold those little key chains and told her to pick out a new name. “Look, it’s about time that you picked your own name – what do you want people to call you when they get your name wrong?”

“Rhonda,” she said.

“Rhonda it is,” we said, grabbing the key chain. We then had a great bonding moment when we hugged, looking at our new key chains with the names Tom, Shane, and Rhonda on them.

So, I guess the point of the story is, we give up. Call us what you will. We don’t care anymore because, as Shakespeare said, "What's in a name? That which we call a roseby any other word would smell as sweet,” – even if you call me Shirley Cowpie or Shelly Stinkerson. I’m not going to let it get under my skin, and in the immortal words of my cosmic Godfather, Frankie Valli, “Big girls don’t cry.” Sing it Frankie. Everybody now. . . “Sha-a-a-aa-a-rie Ba-by.” Oh, man, I’m gunna have trouble getting THAT out of my head now. Thanks a lot.

© 2006 Sharie Derrickson. Previously printed in the Thousand Islands Sun.