So....why "Skaz & Jazz"?

Skaz was my childhood nickname, courtesy of my father. Apparently I was a very very busy, overly active kid. They didn't know about ADHD in the '50's. I rode down the stairs in my walker. I jumped off of tall dressers as a 2-year-old and was fearless in going up the tallest slide on the playground. Apparently there was no end of trouble & worry when I was nearby. So, I guess the appellation, Skaz, came to mean me and me it. 

Then the variations ensued. 
Skaz-a-maratamus. 
Skazzy. 
Maratnus. 
Skazowie.
Kadz.

I had fine, thin hair. It was always sticking every which way. One day my mother got me a permanent. I came back feeling like a bush; now it might be considered an "afro" or something like that. At about the same time, my Dad brought a huge airplane inner-tube for us kids to play on. It was big. I had to scramble to get up on it and since it was easy to slide off, multiple efforts would be made. Once on top, my brother and cousin took their places on the tube as well, nicely spaced out like a pie divided into thirds. But, their plan was to bounce me off of there. They made up a little tune to accompany their efforts and words to go with the tune and the bouncing. 

Skizzily <bounce>
Skazzily <bounce>
Frizzily <bounce>
Frazzily <bounce>
Porcupine Hairs....they'd both shout and bounce in unison! 

and off I'd fly.

So Skizzilyskazzilyfrizzilyfrazzilyporcupinehairs was another nickname.
Sort of like Titikitembonosarembo....

It was not easy growing up being a Skaz. People would say, "What was that they called you?" "Huh?" I felt unique because I was a Skaz not an Alice or Mary or Beth. A certain kind of wildness; almost extrahuman pixie-like....mythical. I was always doing stuff only to figure out later it wasn't such a good idea. 

Once when we went camping, I noticed that in the women's room, it just might be possible to climb over the divider into the stall next door. I had to see if I could do it. Nobody was there. So, up I went...a foot on the pot, a foot on the dispenser, swing on up to the top and when I was at the very apex, another little girl came in and........SCREEEEEEEEAAAAAM!!! Horrified, she ran out the door! This alerted my mother who was nearby and by then pretty good at spitting my name out like so much sour juice, and she did just that. Punishment was meted out. I don't recall, exactly, what that was, but it was surely something I wouldn't forget. But, the crazy part is that I am still a little irked at that darn girl for screaming like that! And why did she have to show up right then, anyway? I didn't even get a chance to explain. I bet I could have gotten her to climb the wall, too!