You won’t be surprised to know that I get a lot of ribbing about my last name.
Somebody told me I should work in a collection agency. Whenever there’s a problem getting someone to pay a debt, they could say “We’ll send Knuckles to see you.”
Sounds like something a mobster would say, doesn’t it?
I tell strangers it’s pronounced “knuckles, like knucklehead,” but a fair share of folks still want to pronounce the “k,” making it k-nuckles.
And probably because it’s an unusual name, sometimes folks just call me Nickles, and that’s okay too.
I’ve been called knucks, nucks-all, k-nucks and the aforementioned “knucklehead.” Also a few names not fit for publication in a family newspaper.
Call me anything you want. As long as you don’t call me late for supper, we’re good.
Up in the coal fields of Eastern Kentucky, from whence I hail, there’s a good number of my clan. And I use the word “clan” literally. Our family originated in Scotland, where generations ago we were known as the Clan McNucholl.
For some reason, the name was changed to the current spelling when my ancestors moved into the hills and hollows of Kentucky, not too long after Daniel Boone blazed his trail through there.
Those ancestors of mine were a right prolific bunch. It wasn’t long before there were so many of us, it was getting hard to distinguish one branch of the family from the other.
For identification purposes, we were split into groups, two being the most prominent.
There was the “Can’t Work” Knuckles faction and the “Won’t Work” Knuckles group.
A “Can’t Work” Knuckles might have been laid up from working in the coal mines, or had a disease or other misfortune that rendered them incapable of holding steady employment. These folks generally relied on government assistance to sustain them.
The “Won’t Work” Knuckles were able to hold a job, but were too lazy to bother. They generally got by mooching off relatives or resorting to assorted petty thievery if it didn’t involve much effort.
We had a fair share of both in our clan, but being gainfully employed since the age of 18, I didn’t fit into either camp.
The most famous family member I have run across was William “The Patriot” Nuchols.
I don’t think “The Patriot” was actually his given name. I suspect it was wedged in between his first and last at a later date.
“The Patriot” was famous because he helped feed George Washington’s Continental Army during the Revolutionary War.
I think ol’ William just sold The Father of Our Country a bunch of hogs, but I am told that the Sons and Daughters of the American Revolution consider his actions patriotic enough that I am eligible to join that group, and maybe I will someday.
We had a few moonshiners and bootleggers in the family tree, but just one Baptist minister that I know about.
Had I not gone into the newspaper business, I would have loved to open a restaurant and name it “Knuckles Sandwich.”
This logo would have been two fists held together, with “knuckles” spelled out one letter at a time on each ... er, knuckle. There are just enough knuckles on each hand to accommodate all the letters. Try this for yourself if you don’t believe me.
The tagline would have read “It’s A Knockout.”
Come to think of it, being a restaurateur might make a great second career.
After all, Col. Sanders was about my age when he hit the road in his battered old station wagon to start the fast-food giant Kentucky Fried Chicken.
Anybody want a Knuckles Sandwich?
Wayne Knuckles is the interim editor and publisher of the White County News.