One dilemma faced by many Baby Boomers now becoming grandparents is what these new little people should call us when they're old enough to call us. While parents-to-be pour over names for their imminent offspring, there's little help for those of us on the other end of the spectrum -- should we settle for something traditional or reach for a handle more modern, more 21st century, more befitting our reputation as cultural revolutionaries and rule-breakers?

In my own quest to answer that pressing question, I first considered some old stand-bys:

Granny? Nope. Sounds too much like a Clampett. Even if she was feisty.

Nana? I ain't no senior citizen. Yet. 

Gram? Ditto. Also sounds a little small. 

Nonni? Hey, that doesn't sound right, either.

What to do? What to do?

Now that my daughter has blessed me with a grandson, the pressure is on to pick just the right name; after all, it will be mine for the rest of my life. I grew up calling my mother's mother Grandmother because she was a rather formal woman -- she was still wearing veiled hats and gloves into the 1970s -- and did not want to be reduced to a nickname. My father's mother was Grandma, which seemed to suit her just fine but, given options, I bet she would have gone for something more creative.

Truth is, there weren't a whole lot of choices back then. Middle-class America was especially conformist in the Fifties -- the Baby Boomer generation, of course, had yet to make its presence truly known. Everyone on my New England block had a "Grandma" or a "Nana" or, if they were Jewish, a "Bubbie." In the same way every kid called their parents Mom or Dad, grandparents got stuck with familiar labels.

Being a Boomer who has done little by the book, starting with becoming a Mom myself at the age of 18, it's my nature to avoid the road most traveled. Since Jacob's arrival in August, I've played with a few possible names and in the interest of family harmony decided to test them on his parents to see if any might fit.

First, I proposed "Ya-Ya," which is a grandmotherly name from the Greek, but Alex, who is German, immediately countered with "Nein, nein." I could see his point, especially if, as a result, I became the go-to grandparent who always said Yes when he and Jennifer said No.

For a while, I was big on "Booma," which combines the concept of "boomer," of course, and "ma," so that I wasn't completely rejecting the old for the new. 

But Booma, alas, was met with indifference.

When I noticed my daughter was referring to me as "whatever she's going to call herself" to little Jacob, I realized I needed to accelerate the process and come up with a final answer.

That said, a grandparent can assume a certain name or even persona but when the child learns to talk, he or she may hand that Grandma or Grandpa a new one. Take my brother-in-law, for example. At some point, Morgan's grandson decided to call him "Ting." No one knows how that came about -- not least because Morgan himself evokes anything but a slight, metallic-sounding ring -- but the name has stuck and there isn't a word in the English language that will make his face light up more than that one.

Another in-law family member goes by Uppity. Aunt Jinny is a rather distinguished lady of 90-plus whose slew of grand- and great-grandchildren have called her Uppity for decades -- not because they thought she was a snob but because the first grandchild successfully used that name to get her to pick him up. And it has worked with every new member of the family after that.

I don't think men agonize over this dilemma the way today's women so often do. My husband, for example, called one grandfather "Pops" and, having very fond memories of this Pops, figures that name will work just fine. 

I'm glad for him.

One day, I found a long list of "trendy" grandmother names. Many varied little from the old warhorses, especially MomMom, which seemed only to compound the problem.

Pippy conjured up long-stockings, which are so last-last-century -- we're trying to be modern here. G.M. would probably drive me crazy while Foxy was sure to draw some unwanted stares from passersby.

Just when I was about to give up, I noticed two letters on the list -- GG. Being a French speaker, I took to them right away. GiGi, with the Gs pronounced softly, reached deep into my francophile psyche. I may never have been a courtesan-in-training or Leslie Caron, but I've read every book by Colette and have long favored my French ancestors over the Celtic ones. 

So there you have it, dear Jacob. Just call me Gigi.

What do/did you call your grandparents and/or how have/will you tackled/tackle this serious issue when/if the time came/comes? (How's that for a convoluted survey question?)

Photo at top right is of my grandson: Jacob Frederick Massmann