Grandpaw and Button

One of my favorite pics of Grandpaw and Button

It was one of the many differences between us.  Maybe it was generational. Maybe it had more to do with personality. I don’t know.  To me it was silly at best, annoying it worst.

Corny, that’s it.  It was corny.

But my dad did it without apology, and routinely yucked about it.

“This is so-and-so,” he would say, “but I call him [insert nickname here].”

To know him well enough to banter at all – which for him meant more than one conversation – usually earned you some sort of nickname.

The manager of the local bank:  “I call her Cuz.”

A friend and pastor’s wife:  “Here comes Trouble.”

His and Dean’s friend Dolores got a play on the pronunciation, for no apparent reason:  “Doh-loh-reez.” [click to continue…]


bettyCrockerOkay, time for a little famous brands trivia.

Without Googling for answers, see if you can guess how many of the following brand names were/are actual people:

Aunt Jemima

Ben and Jerry

Betty Crocker

Chef Boy-Ar-Dee

Duncan Hines

Marie Callender

Martha White

Orville Redenbacher

Sister Shubert

Uncle Ben

Answers are below: [click to continue…]

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(A puzzle… wrapped in a true story)

I was standing in the bank branch foyer the other day.  It was lunchtime, and only two tellers were working, so there was a small line.

Waiting my turn, the man in front of me turned around, and I recognized him.  He was an acquaintance from a former church where I had served.  The truth is, the last we’d seen of each other in any meaningful way was on a rafting trip more than 10 years ago. We had a few minutes to catch up – not asking eternal-type questions mind you – just mainly the life-and-work stuff.

He had retired a few years ago, just in time for the stock market to crater.  So he had figured out that the way out was the way back in, and had gone back to do some consulting.

I told him I am a teacher now for four different universities, soon to be five.  I didn’t mention the part about being an aspiring author and counselor.

His back to the tellers, I had to tell him there was one who was available.

“Hello, Mr. Scott,” she said.  It was the beginning of a powerful lesson.

Wow, I thought to myself.  He must get by here a lot. He must be The Man.  I wondered what it was like to have the fab bank teller know you as a somebody. [click to continue…]

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