My own last name is Ball, and it was the subject of many jokes when I was growing up. Mostly athletic, like, "How's your sister Basket," and the like. Annoying but no big deal.
The anatomic ones were a different story. In 7th grade homeroom, I was greeted every morning by a male classmate who thought he was oh-so-funny. Without fail, he would leer at me and say, "Hiya, Ball. How're they hangin'?" His friends would laugh their butts off at his cleverness. This was 1962-63 and no one paid any to what would today be considered sexual harassment. My homeroom teacher was a man, so I never said anything to him as I knew that if I did, and if he spoke to the classmate, that would only make it worse. I dreaded going onto that classroom every damn day.
After much rehearsal in my head, so I was sure I could carry it off, one morning I stared the guy down, and when he asked his usual dumb ass question, I replied "Fine, thanks, and how are yours?" His buddies laughed even harder than usual, and it shut him right up. He never said it again.
As I said, even all these years later, it is a moment of triumph that I still relish.
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