A memory from my childhood
I lived in a small town in Rhode Island from 1983 to 1988. Pretty much the only town that anyone has ever heard of in Rhode Island (unless you've been or lived there) is Newport. Newport is where the rich people live...the mansions of the Asters, Rockafellers, etc. Well, the town I'm talking about is the poor little brother of Newport. Right next door, close enough to see the wealth, but far enough away that it's easy to hide if the "right people" don't want to see it.
Anyway, this has nothing to do with the socio-economic conditions of competing townships in Rhode Island, rather, this has to do with nicknames.
My family lived in military housing, and my brother quickly met and became best friends with a boy who lived a few doors down from us. He, like my brother, was (and continues to be) two years older than me. At the time that of this incident, I was about 11 and he was 13.
He used to sit out on his front step and do his homework, and I would go over to talk with him. He never really seemed very interested in the work itself, and would tell me that as long as he had something written down, then his teacher would be fine. Not knowing if this was true or not, but believing him nonetheless, I would ask if I could do his homework for him. I'm still not sure why I would do this...it wasn't like he would ask me to...I think it had more to do with me trying to be friendly. I do remember thinking that the math was challenging though...
Anyway, after a few months of doing his math homework for him, he started calling me "Wiz," because he said I was a wiz at it. For many years, this was his nickname for me, and no one (not even my brother) knew it. That is, until I tried out for the varsity football team as a sophomore in high school. He was a senior, and one of the best players, and he would call me "wiz" out of habit. As are most sporting teams, this group of boys were very status conscious, and many of them started calling me wiz as well - with little or no understanding of where the nickname came from. Many of my former teammates, most of whom I haven't seen for years, will still call me wiz whenever they see me.
The funniest part of this whole situation for me has always been that I don't even know if I was doing the math right or not...
I lived in a small town in Rhode Island from 1983 to 1988. Pretty much the only town that anyone has ever heard of in Rhode Island (unless you've been or lived there) is Newport. Newport is where the rich people live...the mansions of the Asters, Rockafellers, etc. Well, the town I'm talking about is the poor little brother of Newport. Right next door, close enough to see the wealth, but far enough away that it's easy to hide if the "right people" don't want to see it.
Anyway, this has nothing to do with the socio-economic conditions of competing townships in Rhode Island, rather, this has to do with nicknames.
My family lived in military housing, and my brother quickly met and became best friends with a boy who lived a few doors down from us. He, like my brother, was (and continues to be) two years older than me. At the time that of this incident, I was about 11 and he was 13.
He used to sit out on his front step and do his homework, and I would go over to talk with him. He never really seemed very interested in the work itself, and would tell me that as long as he had something written down, then his teacher would be fine. Not knowing if this was true or not, but believing him nonetheless, I would ask if I could do his homework for him. I'm still not sure why I would do this...it wasn't like he would ask me to...I think it had more to do with me trying to be friendly. I do remember thinking that the math was challenging though...
Anyway, after a few months of doing his math homework for him, he started calling me "Wiz," because he said I was a wiz at it. For many years, this was his nickname for me, and no one (not even my brother) knew it. That is, until I tried out for the varsity football team as a sophomore in high school. He was a senior, and one of the best players, and he would call me "wiz" out of habit. As are most sporting teams, this group of boys were very status conscious, and many of them started calling me wiz as well - with little or no understanding of where the nickname came from. Many of my former teammates, most of whom I haven't seen for years, will still call me wiz whenever they see me.
The funniest part of this whole situation for me has always been that I don't even know if I was doing the math right or not...
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