No one called me Terry at home while growing up on the west side of Detroit.
They called me Cookie. My grandmother and aunt, who raised me, said I had a big, round head that was shaped like a giant mall sugar cookie. So I became Cookie.
Could you imagine what my byline may have looked like in the Detroit Free Press and Detroit News all these years?
By Cookie Foster, Free Press Sports Writer
By Cookie Foster, The Detroit News.
How about the Valenti and Cookie show?
None of my friends called me Cookie. I was plan old Terry to them, although a number of them tried to figure out if my real name was Terrance. It was not. I am just plain old Terry Foster. I am one of 10 percent of the nation without a middle name.
My family could not decide on a name. Some wanted to name me Ronald or Eugene after my father. They settled on Terry, the name of a great grand father I never met or knew about.
My grand mother, cousin and aunt must not have big fans because I remember being called Cookie when I could barely walk.
What if the name had stuck. Could you imagine meeting LeBron James or Michael Jordan, extending a hand, and saying “Hi. My name is Cookie from the Detroit News?”
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