My Name's not Sue, but Close.

My Name's Not Sue, But Close. (A Legacy Story)

There's more than one interesting story about my full name. My first name was the most interesting and I have had the most fun with it.

Johnny Cash, rumored to be a third or fourth cousin of my biological dad ( the resemblance was easy to see in looks but not the singing voice), sang "A Boy Named Sue". This song about a dad who left his family after naming his son Sue so he would grow up tough enough to survive was comical but a little like what my father did to me.

I am here to tell you that my father claimed to have named me Joyce after a black prize fighter he fought in the 40's. Dad began the story saying it was his last fight and this big, black prize fighter stepped into the ring and his name was announced. This fearsome looking guy was named Joyce. Dad claimed his and the audience's reaction and laughter,turned the boxer into a whirling dervish. He made mincemeat of my dad's face.

It was after that fight that my dad with his two black eyes, busted lip, bloodied nose and wounded pride approached my grandpa asking to marry my mom. (Nevermind the fact that she was just sixteen and my grandpa was so strict he thought Sunday School parties were vanity and wrong.) What's more, he had to convince my grandfather that his fighting days were over. He had to promise to become a sharecropper with my grandfather.

My dad and mom lost their first two babies, a boy and a girl. When my sister was born, my mother named her after her Sunday school teacher. When I arrived it was Dad's turn. For my first name, he chose Joyce after the greatest fighter he ever fought. Marie became my middle name after an old girlfriend who was a nurse (foreshadowing of my future career, or at least one of them.)

Like many young couples who make "fussing and fighting" their means of communication,these two would periodically run out of things to fuss about.Then my name would pop up. They could always get into a good one about the nurse and prize fighting. Of course, my dad disliked church and such stuff, so when the Sunday school teacher came up in conversation, they were off to the races again. This legacy of verbal battle would become a standard among many of our family members.