About Me—smackincohen
Live in LA. Born NY. An important distinction. Happiest on a beach or lost in a book.
name: (1) a word or combination of words by which a person or thing is regularly known; (2) an act of expression showing scorn…intended to hurt another’s feelings; (3) outward…deceptive indication; (4) overall quality as seen or judged by people; (5) a person who is widely known…much talked about. (Mirriam-Webster Synonyms)
Hi, y’all. I’m Suzann.
(1) AKA smackincohen, or Mack, or Mackin, or Smackin, or Su, or Mom, and most recently the moniker — Bestie. I’m not sure if this is a kindness, a manipulation, or a teenager mocking me — there’s a decent chance it’s all three, but he’s talking to me, so I’ll take it.
(2) I’ll skip the memory lane of taunts from the back of the elementary school bus and “nicknames” thrown during stoop ball or a round of kick-the-can.
Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me. I’m rubber, you’re glue, whatever you say, bounces off of me and sticks to you.
As Gen X kids, our skins were thickened by these mantras.
Our skins were thickened by older siblings and neighborhood kids who understood the rites of passage and knew it was safer to leave you to the wolves than to coddle. There were dangers worse than wolves, like not being able to survive the wolves.
Our skins were thickened by hours left to occupy with a stick and a jump rope, scrapes left to bleed without bandaids or hugs, childhood left to experience unhelicoptered under the tutelage of other latchkeys.
Our skins were thickened by the golden rule—be seen and not heard.
(3) (4) (5) What else is a name—a window, a puzzle, a badge of honor? An excuse to ridicule, a bias reaping injustice, an ignorance revealing smallness? A stake at independence, a demonstration of self, a disruption to the assumed? Or is it just a label — removable, changeable, discardable?
As a Gen X parent being schooled by Gen Z teens, I’ve learned it can be all of those—for the good and the bad.
Etymology: SMACKINCOHEN
My full name is a mouthful: Suzann Marie Terese Mackin Cohen
Born Suzann Marie Mackin. Middle name Marie, a piece of the puzzle. Now you know I’m Irish or Italian, and you know I’m Catholic (was—I opted out).
Confirmed Suzann Marie Terese Mackin. Lots of saints named Therese, Teresa, pick any. My 8th-grade self didn’t foretell I’d meet Mother Teresa and volunteer in one of her orphanages as a sophomore in college. A coincidence driven by the travel bug, not altruism.
Married Suzann Mackin Cohen. Long Island shiksa meets Israeli special forces officer at grad school in California. Feminist pride, climbing a career warpath, I take two last names, no hyphen.
Email handle: smackincohen@… turns social media handle: @smackincohen
Career paused. Two kids birthed. Workforce reentered and exited again. Along the path, I opted for ease and sign all paperwork (except trust and purchase docs) Suzann Cohen.
And here I am. Suzann Cohen, AKA smackincohen. Nice to meet you.
Pedigree: The youngest of five of an Irish Catholic family, a lineage of cops, an ancestry of alcoholics, and a working-class upbringing wrapped in twelve-step recovery programs. The kid who left the neighborhood to earn advanced degrees; study, travel, and work in foreign countries; and marry into another tribe. The wife whose finance career climbed alongside her husband’s until I took a sabbatical to raise a high-needs child and recover from a debilitating post-partum later diagnosed as a mood disorder.
Raised two kids. Adopted two dogs. Buried two dogs. Adopted two more. Kept the kids. Moved from Southern to Northern and back to Southern California. Dabbled in part-time work. Volunteered. Joined boards. Ran my household with spreadsheets and precision. Explored holistic medicine, exercised, cooked, stopped exercising and cooking, started and stopped again. Added meds, changed meds, stopped meds, restarted meds. Four therapists, three psychiatrists, acupuncture, ionic footbaths, hot yoga, sound baths, energy healers, wine, chocolate, and tequila. Lost, gained, lost, and gained the same thirty pounds over and over again.
As time moved the chaos forward, my infants grew into teens.
I arrived in my late 40s, the physical needs of my kids declining, their independence severing the last threads of an unrelenting umbilical cord, and an itch in my limbs to climb again. This time into a world of words, not numbers.
I enrolled in a creative writing class, then another, and another, and another. Hyper-interest is a thing. I saw 50 on the horizon, an empty nest looming, and decided I’m a writer. I started my second half-century, back in my groove, as a student in an MFA program. Pen in hand, fingers across a keyboard, nose in a book, and an obnoxious supply of highlighters and book tabs within my grasp, I write, I edit, I revise. I process motherhood, living with a mood disorder, and embracing my consistent inconsistency.
I’ve been reading on Medium for years and starting contributing in May 2021 under my handle: SMACKINCOHEN.
A huge thank you and shout out to a few of my Medium tribe:
My workshop leader, cheerleader, and friend, Carol Adler, encouraged me to stick to my goal of publishing on Medium before the clock struck 50. With hours to spare on the eve of May 7, I published my first piece.
I met Ramona Grigg in my search for publications. Ramona’s pub Indelible Ink is the home to my first three pieces. Ramona didn’t know me but spent a generous amount of time critiquing the first piece I sent her. It was not ready for publishing. And I needed to hear it. I’m still grateful for her directness and feedback and genuine interest.
And Nikki Kay. We met by chance via a Medium Facebook group. I’m grateful the universe was in a good mood that day and made our connection. Nikki’s writing, her journey, and her vulnerability inspire me. She writes about motherhood, trauma, and mental health. Apropos to my musing on names at the start of this intro, read her take on labels.
Medium is a place to connect. I’m happy to meet and engage with more of you. Thanks for sharing this journey.
