What's in a Name?

When I was a kid my Aunt Eloise, seemingly out of the blue, decided to call me Franny Annie. Instantly my face contorted as though I smelled the most rank thing in the world. It felt like fingers down a chalk board. It felt so horribly uncool, and uncool was something I was trying desperately to avoid (weren't we all). Oh how Aunt Weezie just looooved to sing that name from the rafters, laughing and hugging me while in winced in adolescent pain.

Flash forward to my early twenties. Enter one vibrant, outrageous friend Melissa. We met when I began working for a Party Store in Gainesville, Florida. (If you don't know already - I have some serious balloon skillz) Somehow, when Melissa heard "Hi my name is Frances" she heard "What UP! my name is FRANNY! Holla!" and she wouldn't have it any other way. I had no choice whatsoever, (something you learn early on when it comes to her).

Melissa has done many things to solidify my undying love for her over the years. But one of the biggest was being the first loved one in my life to be supportive about my hearing disability. She educated herself about my particular loss and took it too heart. To this day, she still does all that she can to best communicate with me. One that brings a smile to my face, is calling my name at a higher pitch when she's trying to get my attention (strangely it totally works). Anyone who walked into the party store was sure to hear a high pitched "Frannee, Frannee!" at some point and time. And you know what, when we talk on the phone, or see each other (which isn't often enough) my heart fills with warmth to hear her shreek my name. She was the first person to make "Franny" feel a little cooler.

Flash forward a few more years, and soon after starting my new job (I cannot believe I've been here a year already), our office manager began calling me the very same thing and before long my boss did too. Now... I totally rock the "Franny" HOLLA!