“Nicknames stick to people, and the most ridiculous are the most adhesive “

-Thomas Chandler Haliburton, Canadian author & judge

 1853

So here I am, story written, and now all I need is the title and the quote. In this respect allow me to digress for just a second: AI (Artificial Intelligence!) is a scary thing. It’s handy, fast with results, but do I trust it? If I google a topic, let’s say ‘best SUVs this year’ will I be getting ads about SUVs on the right side of my computer screen, like forever? Probably. But in this particular instance the AI response was quite eerily spot-on. I typed in ‘funny quotes about nicknames’. The reply: ‘Nicknames are a universal language of love, ridicule, and absolute hilarity. The best ones aren’t chosen; they are earned, stuck on you like superglue and usually involve an unflattering feature or nonsensical story you’ll never live down.’ Now that just creeps me out!  Read on readers & you’ll find out why.

I was sure I wrote about this little teenage angst adventure a few years ago but alas, I’ve searched high and low; there’s nada, nichts, niente, nothing, zilch. Methinks I’ve just told this yarn so many times I actually thought I’d written it down. Whatever the case, I’m scribing my saga now. The first in a series I’m entitling ‘What’s in a Name’.

As you might guess, having the last name like Moad garnered myself and my siblings a great nickname: the Toad sisters, you know Moad like toad. It got so that when people asked how to spell that last name I’d say “moad like toad”, yep that’s right, ribbit ribbit. There were other nicknames, mostly when I left public & high school, like Quazimoado and in nursing school my pals even called me Jackie Commode! Of course Laurie added a few more too, like Moadus Operendi, à la Moad and my favourite Moadalisa. But throughout my younger years it was Toad.

Now to the tale. It was my first year in a new high school and the Sadie Hawkins dance was coming up; you know the one, the big switcheroo, when the girls got to ask the boys out. And there was one special guy; I guess you could call him my first crush. His name was Wayne Swayze. He was tall and pretty much gorgeous. He looked like a younger brother of Patrick Swayze (and this was 20 years before Dirty Dancing!). So I decided, what the hey, I’m gonna ask him to the dance. And to my heart-stopping amazement he said sure. Word spread lightning-fast through the high school rumour mill that Jackie Toad was going out with Wayne.

That Friday night myself & my sisters did our famous wash-dry&iron our hair (poker straight with a flip at the end was in, fuzzy Brillo-pad was not even on any fashion radar then). My oldest sister Sharon did my make-up. I felt like a princess, especially when Wayne arrived with an unsuspected corsage. We went to that dance and had a really really good time. I’ll never forget that dreamy night, especially when he drove me home he kissed me on the porch – well actually he kissed me on the lips on the front porch. The rest of the weekend I floated on Cloud 9… and came crashing down to earth on Monday when Wayne came back to school brandishing a wart on the end of his nose. No, it was not a freckle, it was not a zit, it was indeed a wart. And it grew exponentially over the coming weeks. What a field day the whisper network had with this: What did Wayne expect,  go out with Jackie Toad and you get a Wart.  I was a bit of a pariah for a while, a traumatic experience, for both of us. I never went out with Wayne again. But wait, there’s more.

Fast forward about 20 years. Laurie & I were on Vancouver Island and the Cedar Community Hall was having their Halloween dance. We’d picked up a couple of cheap costumes at the Salvation Army and I decided at the last minute that I wanted to wear the clown costume. What a great time dancing silly, joking with everyone, being as much of a fool as I wanted! A woman came up & asked what my name was and if I ‘did kid’s birthday parties’. Sure, sound like fun (& it was). My name…Moadiodoe. A year later, being founding members of the Green Party, we were off to Ottawa for our first convention. It was around Halloween so we decided to visit Laurie’s parents in Toronto and I would carry on to London to visit my parents: Surprise! Jackie got on the bus in Toronto, went to the back and transformed into her alter ego Moadiodoe. When I disembarked in London I remember the bus driver doing a small jump in his seat. I waved down a taxi in pure clown fashion, the taxi driver pulled up slowly, cautiously, and I got in the back seat behind him. He kept looking in the rearview mirror like he wasn’t sure what I was going to do, maybe roll him, or perhaps stab him. As I gave him the address I looked down on the back of his seat, checking out his drivers license… his name, his picture. Yes, you see it coming – it was Wayne Swayze; still as gorgeous as ever, a little white on the temples but no trace of that wart or even a scar on his nose; none at all. My dilemma was: do I want to say “hey hi Wayne, remember me, I’m the one that gave you the wart on the end of your nose”?! It was a short drive (but seemed like forever for me, maybe him too). I was still mulling over that question when we pulled up to my parents’ place and I realized that I didn’t want to tell him that it was me underneath this clown garb. I remember his always-soft voice saying “that’ll be $5.25” So in my best clown voice I handed him a $10.00 bill and said “keep the change, handsome”, stepped out of the car and gave him one good look for my memory bank. That was the last time I ever saw Wayne Swayze.

Jackie Moad often reminisces about sweet moments, listening to Depeche Mode, still smok’in busy juicing apples for her outmoded press, on that beauty 20 acres of organic paradise in Cedar.

Jackie Moad.
World Traveler.
Environmentalist.
Organic Farmer.

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