That was the name of one of my longest friends. I was her maid of honour and she would have been my matron of honour but she had her first child three days before my wedding day, so her husband served as an usher, for which continued thanks. I was thinking of her this morning dg' low what triggered it, but then I thought of all the different Nancys I know, no two alike. We had a cousin in Scotland who spelled it Nancy; I have a neighbour in my building who spells it Nancey; I have a friend I see once a year at an annual dinner of a club we both belong to who spells it Nance. And my departed friend spelled it Nancie. I think Nancy originally was the nickname of Agnes. Can that be right?
Frank Sinatra's first wife's name was Nancy and an early hit of his was the song "Nancy With the Laughing Face". Does anyone remember that? I can even remember the tune. Sigh.
Anyway, I went on to thinking how you cannot take any name for granted, how to spell it. In my publishing past when I signed my books for people, I learned that I had to ask every time how a name was spelled. That was after I wrote A-L-I-C-E. Nope. A-L-Y-S. i also wrote M-A-R-Y for someone who corrected me: no, she said, it's M-A-I-R-E. Irish, you know. Well, sure. I can pronounce S-I-O-B-H-A-N, but I'm not sure if I spell it correctly. A young Irish actress starred in a film called Brooklyn two years ago and t's a tough one: S-A-O-I-R-S-E. I forget how to pronounce it S-E-E-R-S-A, I think. I have a friend whose name is Q-U-E-N-T-E-N because his mother didn't know how to spell Q-U-E-N-T-I-N.
You can't take anything for granted. Not. Ever.