I think the 1st person to ever mostly, or consistently call me "Cath", was my boarding school bestie (later, college roomie, cousin-in-law, & Matron of Honor) "Mar"---the glass artist formerly known as Mary Ruth Parker. I was, by then, no stranger to nicknames. I was...
..."C.J." to my dad, who'd have probably preferred a boy, to assuage the pain of the sons he'd left behind, in Hawaii.
..."Cat" to my best guy friend, growing up, though he transitioned to "Cath" years later. Honorary brothers are allowed to call you whatever they please, just like biological ones.
..."Sissy", so dubbed by my baby sister. (Wish 13-year-old me hadn't cajoled her out of calling me that. Such a jerk thing to do.)
..."Mikey", I'm afraid to say, after a particularly tacky joke in the movie "Porky's". My mother still doesn't know I've watched that movie, I'd bet.
..."Mom", to younger, often fractured female dorm-mates, far from both home & healing, of innumerable hurts.
Lots of folks followed suit, after Mar, & "Cath" I was, & am, to many. Other monikers & appellations attached, mostly singularly...
..."Caffy" to 1 boyfriend, & 1 husband.
..."Veronica" to the same (only) hubs.
..."Miss Cathy"/"Mrs. Cathy" to preschool & school-age students/campers, through the years.
..."Mama" to Belmont studio musicians who needed coffee & Domino's, or same cleaned up. Later, 3 brown-skinned babes would alternate between this badge of honor, & its twin, "Mom".
..."Mrs. Sparks" to anyone courting one of our "kids", until the moment an engagement renders me "Cathy" to them, too.
But, I must confess, I chose my own "true name"---what I call my "soul name"---"Mama Cath". That said, in a way, it chose me. "Mama", to me, is the essence of my best self. Nurturing, encouraging, offering wisdom, laughter, household hints, love advice, or just a listening ear, it is what I aspire to be, on a good day, anyway. Couple it with the 1st "adult" (okay, post-18, which doesn't seem so grown-up, now) nickname bestowed upon me, & it recalls a similar name that I heard repeatedly on my cassette player, as a boarding school Senior, in East TN.
For the uninitiated, or the ridiculously young, I refer to one Miss Cass Elliot, of the 60's supergroup The Mamas & The Papas. "Mama Cass", as she was called, unlike the lithe, blonde, wispy California girl "Mama Michelle", who made up the other female 1/4 of the band, was a Baltimore-born East Coast girl of substantial proportions. With dark hair, a big bod, & dusky pipes to match, she boasted an anti-Twiggy figure, a beguiling innocence, plus painful insecurity that ran long & deep.
After the breakup of the group, she embarked on a solo career, nurtured a daughter, & fought her weight down to 200 lbs., from a high of a 100 lbs. more. She died at 32 of a heart attack, likely brought on by fasting 4 days a week, in yet another heart-rending "battle of the bulge", trying to match what managers & bandmates had tried to shame her into being for years. In a twist that speaks volumes about how accurate her perceptions of these external expectations were, her vocal artistry has been long over-shadowed by an urban legend that's supposed to serve as one final punchline at her expense. To this day, most people believe that Cass choked to death on a ham sandwich. She left a body of work that was a pre-cursor to the full-bodied talents of Adele. This solo mama also left an orphaned 7-year-old girl, to be raised by her aunt.
I've rarely been slender, save my preschool years, & a few more, as an adult. I did Nutri-System as an 8th grader, so it's not hard to guess my feelings of kinship with a zaftig East Coast Jewess I never met. However, it was just as importantly that soulful voice, coming through those tinny-sounding cassette player headphones, during what my dorm dean's mangled diction was rendered, "Sturdy Hall in the Liberry". My favorite song? The Cass-dominated power ballad, "Dream A Little Dream", which began with the announcer stating, "And now to sing a lovely ballad...Mama Cass.".
Romantic, light, evocative of liltingly crooned tunes from a by-gone era, when recorded, in the late-60's, I'm sure 90% of my fellow students in that musty old "liberry" had no idea who she, or the band were, in 1988. By then, though, I was growing comfortable in my quirks, & couldn't have cared less. I like to think if Cassie had lived a bit longer, she'd have grown to feel the same.
So, to honor Mama Cass & both those who dubbed me "Mama" & "Cath", in the early years of my 20's, I combined the two into a descriptor that I'll proudly bear until I breathe my last. That, if you're still reading, is The Title (Not-So-Short) Story. 12~12~12
Dream A Little Dream---Mama Cass Elliot
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