Yes, HiKath IS my Real Name

HiKath is real in the same way the Velveteen Rabbit became real—by being loved.

The story goes back to 1995 when I shared a home with my bestie, her husband, and their daughter Bethany, who had been born the year before.

Like many toddlers, Bethany called both of us "Mom" when she first started talking. As her vocabulary grew, she learned the cat's name—pronounced something like, "AH-boo-ker-key!"—but somehow never managed to say "Kathy."

Le, who has always called me Kath, decided that simply wouldn't do. Since Bethany's favorite word was "Hi," they spent the next day pointing to my picture and saying,

"Hi Kath."

That evening I walked through the door and Bethany squealed,

"HiKath's home! Hiya, HiKath!"

That was it.

When a one-year-old tells you who you are, you don't argue.

You answer to it for the next thirty years.

Fast forward about twenty years.

I was between jobs, waiting tables, with HiKath embroidered across my apron.

One of my guests insisted it couldn't possibly be my real name.

I smiled and said,

"If you Google it, you'll find my picture."

Then I walked away to refill drinks.

When I came back, he was staring at his phone with a grin on his face.

Sure enough, he'd found my old travel blog, HiKath's Courageous Connection Tour.

He looked back up.

"So... how did you get that name?"

I shrugged.

"I was born in the '60s. Things were different then."

He laughed.

So did I.

I've answered to Kathy, Kath, Kat, Katie, Kelly, HiKath, and now Grannie.

My favorite people call me Grannie.

But around here...

You can call me HiKath.