Chapter 1: A Cast of Characters

As I reflect on my childhood, several unforgettable nicknames come to mind.

George the Polack was a notable figure in the neighborhood. Both Senior and Junior had their quirks, though George Senior had a particular conflict with my mother, stemming from an incident involving her laundry and a garden hose.

Nature Boy, whose real name escapes me, drove a Volkswagen Bug and was known for his heavy marijuana use.

Then there was Pants Lifter, who had an odd habit of pulling his trousers up to his armpits, and lived with his older sister who always seemed to have greasy hair.

Rosie Rotten Crotch was the local lady of the night, claiming her territory at the corner of 11th and Greenfield and regularly visiting neighborhood bars.

Cripple Pete, known for his limp, harbored a small crush on my sister.

The Twins and Stinky John were also part of this colorful mix.

The Mute and Black Joey rounded out the list; Black Joey entered our lives a bit later.

In our neighborhood, I was often referred to by my siblings' names, such as Lil Jason, Jay-bone, Jay-dog, and even Dennis the Menace, a nod to my troublemaking ways. With my blond hair shining almost white in the sun, I was a constant source of mischief, blissfully unaware of boundaries.

Hoto, derived from the Spanish word "joto," meaning effeminate or gay, was another nickname I received, particularly from the Mexican families in the area. We all understood its implications.

Our neighborhood was a blend of blue-collar working-class families, characterized by the diversity and challenges typical of the south side of Milwaukee. Each family faced their struggles, and names often stuck without any ill intent—though some, like Cripple and Stinky, might suggest otherwise.

Back in the '80s, during the Reagan presidency, names carried less weight than they do today. We were influenced by shows like "All in the Family" and "The Jeffersons," but the real concerns of survival overshadowed any verbal jabs. The mantra of our community was simple: "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me."

Chapter 2: A Paper Route Experience

As a typical boy of my age, I took on a paper route. Despite being small for my age—probably around 55 pounds—I managed to fit into the bag provided for my deliveries.

Every afternoon, I would load that bag onto my skateboard and navigate the neighborhood. One of my stops was a widower who had lost his wife the previous year and owned a friendly sheepdog named Trixie, a beautiful creature with long white fur and black spots.

One day, while delivering a paper, I noticed Trixie wagging her tail on the other side of the fence. Just then, a man approached, flailing his arms and muttering to himself. I paid him no mind, but as I reached over to pet Trixie, the man suddenly yelled aggressively, startling me.

Frozen with fear, I stepped back too slowly. Before I knew it, he had grabbed me by my shirt and threw me over the fence. I landed hard, winded and panicked, just as Trixie dashed toward me, knocking me further back. Blood streamed from my nose as the dog tugged at my wrist, trying to pull me to safety.

As I looked back, I saw the man rummaging through my bag and skateboarding away with my newspapers. The widower eventually came out, called Trixie inside, and urged me to head home, telling me to inform my father about the incident.

My mother tended to my injuries and warned me to steer clear of the Mute, suspecting he was on drugs. My father later spoke with the widower, emphasizing that I needed to be more assertive in defending my belongings.

The Mute, now a part of our neighborhood lore, was never teased. Instead, we kept our distance, wary of his unpredictable presence. Over the years, he drifted in and out of our lives, and though he had a name that reflected his oddities, we never sought to understand him more deeply.

The names we carry often reflect aspects of ourselves—whether they arise from physical traits, behaviors, or circumstances. They can either hurt us or provide strength. For me, they are simply memories, reminders of a boy who has grown far beyond the small child I once was.

In this video titled "Denver's Neighborhood Nicknames," you can explore similar themes of community identity and the quirky names we give one another.

Another insightful video, "Neighbor Nicknames (01-08-2020)," delves into the cultural significance of these monikers in different neighborhoods.