Grandmother wanted to name me Gabrielle. My mother didn't want people to call me Gabby. She must have had a sixth sense. My teachers in elementary and high school would have led the charge with that nickname given report card comments that often began, "sweet girl, a little too chatty."

Wanting something unusual (ironically, it's rather common nowadays), my mother baptized me Danielle Colette. I added Marie-Therese upon my confirmation at aged thirteen. And Tezcan upon my marriage a decade later. It was some 20 years before anyone actually called me Danielle.

My mother called - and calls - me any number of things - pooh bear, pumpernickel, darling, Danny Girl... I was almost an adult before I knew the song Oh Danny Boy was not an alternate (nor erroneous) rendition of the song she had sung to me.

My grandmother, aunts, uncles, cousins and childhood friends called - and call - me Danny. Briefly, perhaps just the weekend of the retreat when I claimed it, despite the sweatshirt where the name even now still lives, I was Dizzy Danny. An attempt to invent a less serious version of myself - with, alas, dubious success.

I had a babysitter who called me "De-nelle." My great grandmother called me "Damn-yil" (seriously). My great great grandmother called me "Daaaaaaa-ny" in a rather sweet, gravelly sing-songy voice.

My daddy called me baby till the day he died.

Since my sophomore year in college I have been Danielle to everyone I have met. Thus, I know how long I've known someone by whether they call me Danny or Danielle.

Except...

My husband calls me canım benim (my soul) sevgilim (my darling), aşkım (my love), birtanem (sweetheart), her şeyim (my everything), hayatım (my life) and fıstık (peanut).

Once upon a time, my son called me Mommy. Now, I am Mom.

One day, if I am lucky, I will be Grandma or Nana or Granny.

Of all the names I have been called, which is my favorite? Debatable, but I think Mommy wins. Granny might overtake the lead someday...I will have to get back to you on that one.

I have gone by many names. My parents put Charles Thomas Morris on the birth certificate. Charles was my paternal grandfather’s given name. Thomas was my father’s, mother’s maiden name. Morris was my father’s, and his father’s, and his father’s, and his father’s surname, etc. Very patriarchal, surnames. I am surprised that surnames have not yet been cancelled. Give it time. I am sure “They” will get around to it.

My Mother called me Chuck, and it stuck.

My father called me Jabbo, Rooster Poot, and everything but lazy... which I am still proud of to this day.

My grandmother called me Chuck-a-Luck.

My other grandmother called me Chucky.

My older sister called me seldom.

My friends in high school called me “Sweetdaddy.” I had a lot of parties at my house, and when things got out of hand I would play Hank Williams’ “Lovesick Blues,” as a signal to get everybody out. There is a line in that song that says, “I love to hear her when she calls me Sweetdaddy, such a beautiful dream...” My buddies would yell, “It’s Sweetdaddy’s song! Party is over!” and everyone would go home (or get there asses kicked.) So many people called me Sweetdaddy back then that I was thrilled when I moved to Charlotte after high school and became Chuck again.

My wife calls me Honey, Sweetie, or Baby.

At work they call me often, and a few names behind my back.

And finally, on Prose, I am proud to be called Huckleberry_Hoo, a name I concocted myself, and my favorite of them all.

So there it is. That’s what they have called me while alive.

When I’m dead...go ahead and set it in stone.

Here in Prose, I am known as 1912Writer, while some call me writer. As simple as it sounds, it came from me writing simple poems here, and 1912 was the year the R.M.S. Titanic sunk, as I am a fan of ships in the past.

But in real life, my name is Enrico Miguel Nievera Salvador. The first two names are the ones that really matter, as Nievera was my mother's maiden surname while Salvador is my father's surname. Onwards with my first two names.

My father is a fan of basketball, so Enrico came from a famous basketball player in our country, Enrico Villanueva. Meanwhile, Miguel came from the Archangel Michael. In school, I was called Mikko (some misspelled it sometimes as Miko), and some others called my Enrico.

On a side note, me and my sister share the same initials (EMNS), until of course, when she gets married. Also, my family's names all start with the letter E (E family?). Finally, Enrico's English equivalent is Henry, so I technically share names with Henry VIII, the "splitter of churches, and ladies" (Yikes!)? Well, that's all.

My close friends have a nickname for me- Johnny. Now, note that my name is something completely different. Also has nothing to do with my username. I just got the name ‘Johnny’ from my friends casually goofing off. They likened me to “An eight year old Victorian boy named Johnny who lives in some rich dude’s walls.” and it’s just kinda gone from there and stuck. I’d never admit it to them, but I actually really like the nickname.