The Name Game
“Little Simonetti” is what they called me. I was always the little sister or Katie S. so no one confused me with Katie C. Then I was Kaytren… but only to some. To my mom, dad, older brother, Grandpa, Grandma, childhood friends – you name it, I will be Katie forever. That shy little girl from Mt. Olive had a bob haircut up to my chin with bangs, yeah it was a nineties thing. Yep, that was me. Always bashful but it didn’t stop me from trying new things even if they didn’t last long. Then Kaytren became Kay, and Kay became Kaytch, and of course other people still called me Katie. The transition of my name, like my life, was not always smooth.
In those years I grew up going to the Jersey shore. My first beach trip was when I was six weeks old. I made my debut on the scenic shores of Ocean City, NJ. At the tender age of three my dad towed me around on the boogie board, which, soon led to body surfing, boogie boarding and eventually surfing in Hawaii. A complication arose when I first spotted fish swimming around me in Bermuda. It took major convincing to get me back in the water I loved so much. Typical stubborn me. My dad was always up for an adventure so when I was four we hit the ski slopes. With his instruction I quickly dominated the bunny slope and made my first trip up in the chair lift. I don’t know who was more excited my dad or me. Little did he know this would be one of the only sports I stuck too… well kind of, since I switched to snowboarding in high school.
At the age of five, I played co-ed soccer, quit six weeks later because a boy hit me on the butt with a soccer ball. Yeah, I’m stubborn or maybe soccer really just wasn’t for me. My friend’s mom signed me up for dance that same year. I liked dance, it was a place were being quiet benefitted me because I focused on what was being taught and picked up it much more quickly than the girls who spent the hour talking and fooling around. My liking for dance did not last very long either. After recital I was certain that I did not want to return the next year, but my Grandma went on and on about how beautiful I looked in my costume and on stage. I would love to thank my Grandma now for convincing my five-year-old self to stick to dance; it was the best thing she ever said to me.
So dance it was, for now, but don’t worry my dad wasn’t going to give up on me being athletic even though I was the ultimate girly girl dressed in frilly dresses, ruffled socks, polished nails and bows in my hair. Basketball was next on his agenda and of course he was my assistant coach. I was doing much better at basketball then soccer at least for the first few weeks. I was in third grade at this point and the sport was surprisingly still co-ed… not a good thing for me. Those smelly boys were too competitive for me. But you know how it ends, I got tired of my dad constantly correcting me and soon basketball was a kick in the butt just like soccer. So once again, maybe I’m stubborn or maybe basketball just wasn’t my thing…
On to tennis, I’ll be brief about that… FAIL. Back to dance, I think I finally found my calling at the age of eight; coincidentally in an area that my dad did not have expertise in. I found my passion and was soon invited to join the Shooting Stars Competition Dance Team and the dance journey began in earnest. There were of course a few bumps in the road, mainly costume malfunctions when I was at my most awkward and lankiest stage. Imagine dancing in front of an audience when your parachute pants come untied and fall down to your ankles during a hip-hop performance to “It’s Tricky” by Run DMC. It was a fitting song since it was tricky to dance while trying to hold my pants up. Unfortunately for me my dance teacher did not see the humor in it like the audience did. There was also an incident with an uncooperative top that popped open causing me to once again flash the audience. There was a shoe that flew off and hair disasters including a wig falling half off hanging across my face blinding me. Along with the disastrous moments was a lot of fun and hard work that has served me well to this day.
So now a days, if somebody calls Katie, Kaytren, Kay, Kaytch, or anything close to Kaytren (because we all know that’s easily mispronounced) my head will whip around and my older and not so shy self will respond. But if you dare call me Kate… Just remember I’m stubborn.
Now a days my stubbornness is attribute that has helped me excel in dance, my life’s passion. Thanks dad for bringing it out in me, and thanks mom for telling him it was ok to focus just on dance.






