When I was growing up, and when I was living as a man, everyone in my family called me by a shortened version of my old name, with an “ee” sound at the end of it. I always hated that nickname even more than my full name. There reasoning was that an uncle and my father shared that name.
(I hated being a “junior “ even more than my nickname.)
For some reason, however, no one ever called my brother Michael “Mike.”
What got me to thinking about all of that? This:
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