(Saw a freeway sign saying “Memphis Chicago, 12 miles” and this story was created)
My father named me Memphis Chicago, for the simple reason that he just loved the sound of those city names and didn’t know how to name me since I was a girl instead of a coveted boy. My mother died giving me birth, two months early, so she didn’t have any say in the matter, since they hadn’t yet decided on a name.
Right off the bat, Dad started calling me Phizzy or Phiz, short for Memphis. I didn’t mind until junior high. You know how it is.
In high school, I asked my friends to call me “Chic” for Chicago, and most of them complied. The bullies throughout the years called me Phizz Whizz, Memph, Fried Chicky until I learned Karate and became a black belt.
In college, I started introducing myself as M.C., until my roommate confided in me one day, saying, “Memphis, you have a unique name and I think you should capitalize on it!”
Why didn’t I ever think of that? After a couple of years, and since I love singing, playing instruments, and writing music and songs, I decided to major in the music business, and to make the most of my unusual name. I’ll be famous one day.
Oh, and I’ll visit Memphis and Chicago, to see if the cities are as interesting as the sound of their names.