Spider Monkeys: A Slice of Life

Remote teaching has left me deflated; I lost my mojo for my blog.  Until.  Until my friend Marce shared the Slice of Life Writing Challenge.

Every Tuesday I will post a "slice" of life to recharge my writing muscles.

So, let me test your knowledge of volleyball.

What is the librero?  

The librero (LEE'-beh-ro) is a defensive specialist in volleyball who only plays the back row.  The one with the different colored jersey.  The one smaller than the oak trees blocking at the net. 

My son plays librero for the Lewis Flyers, one of the few D1 Men's Volleyball programs in the nation. 

While defending against NJIT this past week, the announcer described him as a spider monkey.  

This nickname has brought hours of powerlaughs, especially while watching footage from the game.  Adept and spry, Marty flies through the air, long limbs reaching for the ball, long, skinny legs extended horizontally, landing only for a second before springing back to the huddle.

On Chicago's southside, nicknames are not only commonplace but the most endearing trademark of our neighborhood.  Nicknames are a sign of love.  A sign of respect.  A sign of belonging.  A trademark of the city of neighborhoods, they are earned through shenanigans or inherited through familial generations. 

I have branded many colleagues and students with nicknames as a sign of love and affection: Waldog.  Boo.  Salsy.  The Validator.  Sa Sa.  McDoo. Day-muh-TAY-O.

And then there are the names that need not be altered when you have a last name like Horn.  All I have to do is the air trumpet.

So when Juliet laments, "What's in a name?" I say, "Friends, colleagues, blogosphere, Lend me your ear."