Tay Tay Dubya

Daddy always has concocted nicknames for random people in our lives. I first remember his applying a nickname to a third grade classmate. Lamar Cryer was our chorus teacher’s male favorite, as she assigned him all possible gender-appropriate solos. However, Lamar deserved his Belwood Elementary fame because no one could croon about monsters under his bed or having a blue, blue Christmas with such rasp and sophistication. Daddy even felt moved by Lamar’s performance, particularly after he portrayed a chef in a school play. (That’s all I recall about it.)

“Hey, Chef Lamar!” Daddy hollered at Lamar every time they ran into each other. This continued throughout high school.

Around the same time Daddy decided to become my softball teammate Melissa’s* greatest fan. Although rotund, Melissa really hustled. So Daddy called her Rocket.

“Yeah ROCKET!!!” he screamed as she rounded the bases at every game. She smiled hugely while she ran.

Sometimes Daddy’s monikers weren’t as well-received. Like my sister’s friend Jesse Yoder.

“Jesse yo-yo-yo-yo-yo-YODER!!!” Daddy yelled when he came over. Jesse usually sort of stood there. To be fair, I don’t know how I’d respond either.

Two years before meeting her, Daddy devised a sobriquet for my boss, whose last name is Thacker*.

“How’s that Thacker woman doin’?” he often asks me on the phone. My boss took the nickname in stride, and has written “T.T.W.” on the return address of a few cards she sent to my parents.

So now Daddy calls her Tay Tay Dubya.

In my first Hot Dog Beehonkus post, I mention a Moon Pie goody bag my boss prepared for Daddy’s Birthday. She signed the card “T.T.W.” and clarified “That Thacker Woman” with an asterisk. She compassionately wondered if he would remember what that means. Luckily, Tay Tay Dubya is cemented in Daddy’s long-term memory.

“Of course I know what Tay Tay Dubya is!” Daddy answered when I asked. “You tell Tay Tay Dubya I said hello,” he now always reminds me when we check in while I’m at work.

I think most people find Daddy’s nicknames endearing or flattering. Daddy recently phoned his good friend Byron Barron, retired Command Sargeant Major and fellow Airborne Ranger. I was taught to call him Sargeant Major Barron, and Daddy shortened that to Smadge. Daddy called to inform him of his diagnosis but didn’t address him as Smadge. My mother thinks it bothered him. When Sargeant Major Barron called the house to speak to Daddy a few days later, Mother carried the phone to the living room and said, “Robert, it’s Byron…”

“Smadge!” Daddy exclaimed while leaping from the sofa.

I think that relieved us all.

*Name has been changed