ScottyBurger

I am about to divulge something that I have spent a lifetime trying to hide from virtually everyone in my life. Most of my friends don't know it, and neither does my wife. It's something that was a source of real embarrassment for me for a long time as a young adult, but it's time to get over it.

This time of the year is always one of reflection for me. For it was in April that my dad died almost 31 years ago. It's the weather. The "tween" temps? Early spring, it gets me thinking. And for some reason today on my 5 mile walk, I was thinking of the nickname my dad gave me when I was just a little guy - "ScottyBurger." Don't ask. I have no idea why he called me that, or where the heck it came from, but that was his runaway favorite.

I never asked anyone where it came from. My name is Scott, and I do like burgers. But I don't think that affection for hamburgers was evident when I was just 3 years old! It never bothered me when I was a kid. I didn't care then who heard it. And the sound of that silly name made me feel all was right with the world. And it was.

That moniker is probably not the first word I ever spoke, but it's the first one I still remember. For some reason, it gave my dad great delight to say it, and it amused those around us to no end. When I was 7 it was fine, 10 less fine, at 12 not so fine, and at 13, I was running for cover. Then at 16. He died. And so did "ScottyBurger."

I then spent most of my adolescence hoping that some family member at a holiday function wouldn't blow my cover after a couple of quick egg nogs. My fear grew that some group of friends, or God forbid, some girlfriend would learn about that silly name from my childhood.

Oh, I had an Uncle John that used to call me "Burger" well into my 30's, saying things like, "That's a good lookin' sandwich there, Burger!" But he used decorum and only uttered that name within the family. Basically, ScottyBurger was shelved for 31 years. I never said it, never told any friends, and certainly not any girlfriends for decades! But it's time that I own up to it, and give my dad the props he deserves.

Funny thing, I have spent my adult life coming up with nicknames for the important people in my own life. Some really embrace it, and think it's fun. Others roll their eyes, and think I need something better to do with my time. The names have always been harmless, and each one takes about 1 second to come up with. Usually it's just out there before I know it. To be very honest, it's a way I show affection. It's an endearing gesture I've been doing for years. And luckily, I've never saddled anyone with anything like ScottyBurger! And when I hear a nickname parroted by someone else that I originated, that flatters me to no end. Few things make me smile more.

Those in my family say I'm the spittin' image of may dad. I do look like him, I do get excited over life's little things, and I laugh a little too loud for some people sometimes.... and I know it. But I get it honestly, as we all do from our parents. I got lots of things from my dad, and those are just a few. But it's that time of the year. When I think of the things he gave me when I was just a little kid. Most of them were a lot more important than ScottyBurger.

Or were they?