Monikers

I have many names to which I answer. Some are not repeatable, though. Among the repeatable names that I treasure are
Mom, as called by my children;
Bun, given to me by Peggy Anderson and perpetuated by her daddy, now my siblings call me that;
Aunt Bun, as called by my Stephens nieces and nephews and a few other very close friends’ children;
Aunt Brenda, as called by my Andrews nieces and nephews and other friends’ children;
B. G., as called by Billie Chumney and his family;
Teach, as called by several of the 1980’s students;
Mrs. Pud, as called by my husband’s friends who call him Pud; Andrews, as called by Garland Riggs because he thinks it’s cool; Masandrews, by several of the high school students because they don’t make the effort to enunciate correctly;
Miss, as called by some of the high school students who don’t want to have to think about anyone’s name so it becomes a one-size fits all;
Andy, as called by Natalie DeMasters because she thinks it is fun;
Miz A, as called by Lane Gartman and others because it distinguishes me from Miz E;
Bidagail, as called by Tanner Courtney because he is a little boy who can’t yet say my name correctly;
Bren, as called by my blogger friends;
Bumney Gail, as called by Kim Townsend because that's what she chose;
Brenda Gail, as called by my former classmates and most of the kids I grew up with;
Strenda Bephens, as called by Charles Jones because he never calls anyone by their correct name.

But the name that I will cherish forever is what my grandchildren call me. Of course, I have chosen a name. . . Gigi. I’m going to train them to call me that. . . maybe.