Among the Dyaks, the tribal people of Borneo, it is common for a person's name to change many times over the course of their life. When they're born, they're called something ugly and distasteful ... literally ... like worm or slug, in hopes of keeping spirits from finding the little darlings too tempting to leave in the worldly realm.

The occasion of the first birthday is celebrated with a naming ceremony where the baby gets the adorable moniker parents have been longing to bestow. This sticks until adulthood and parenthood, as the naming of a baby has an immediate effect on others at that time.

At the time the baby becomes, say, Sam, the names his parents received at their own naming ceremonies years before are dropped; they now become "Sam's Dad" and Sam's Mom".

(Yes, I know that they really speak a different language than I write in, and that the Dyak names and words for mom and dad sound a bit more exotic ... but you get my point.)

Sam's Dad's dad looses the name he's gone by since his son was born and becomes "Sam's Grandpa", and the same goes for the rest of the grandparents, but with a slight alteration for the maternal / paternal thing.

Sound confusing?

You should try explaining our way of doing it to a Dayk. They don't get it at all.

How, they'd like to know, can anyone tell who's related to whom and how, without having to go into all sorts of complicated diagrams of relativity?

In the adoption world we have frequent discussions of what to call various players, depending on their position ... a topic that can generate a lot of heat.

On a family scale, we all have to decide if we're to be Mom and Pop, Mommy and Daddy, Mama and Papa, Mum and Dad, Soup and Sandwich (oops).

Then there are those one generation up, and that's what this post is about. (Knew I'd get here eventually.)

When my beautiful granddaughter was born, my daughter posed the question: What do you want to be called?

I'd assumed she'd just summon the 'grandma' she grew up with and confer it without consultation, so when that didn't
happen, I had to give some quick thought. I took into account time, distance, desired relationship, self-perceived image, hoped-for-image, whimsy, gravity and all sorts of other grand concepts that had me spinning out the years with my darling granddaughter and I fondly enjoying a perfect, albeit long distance, love.

"Grandma" sat well, but was still in use, as my mom had been Grandma for more than thirty years by then.

I wasn't at all fond of "Nanny"... sounds like a job position, not a beloved relative ... besides which my son-in-law's mom had already put dibs on that one.

I rather liked "Granny". It made me smile and think of Daisy Clampet.

"Gran" on it's own is very British, and put me far too much in mind of Mark's stern maternal flagship.

After much thought and inner debate, trying many titles out for size, fit and comfort with wearing, I finally decided I would be called Grammy.

Not only do I like the sound of it ... just corny enough to be warm and cuddly, but not too over-the-top ... but, and this is the important bit, I'm hoping it will, for a while at least, have my little darling thinking there's an awards show named after me.