What’s in a Name?

I’m one of the fortunate ones who likes their given name.

First Name: Robert
I like the versatility, the options.
I can be…
“Robert” – my “real name” and what just about my entire family calls me.
“Rob” –     One Aunt gets away with it.
“Robbie” – Never! I am not a “Robbie”
“Bobby” – My summer camp persona.
I liked it because it made me sound like a teen idol,
e.g. Bobby Sherman or Bobby Brady.
“Bob” –     Started a bit in college, then took over when I started working.
Never felt right for me.
Sounded like a salesman’s name or a rich Connecticut guy.

For 25+ years just about everyone at my job called me “Bob”.
Finally, in my last two years, I started signing memos as “Robert”.
My co-workers couldn’t deal with it
You would have thought, I changed my name to Hitler!?
Who is Robert? They demanded.
I said, That’s my name!
When they asked me why I never said anything over the years? I replied…
”I didn’t want to make any waves.
My team began calling me “Bobert”.

Second Name: Alan
Pretty much a non-factor…
other than I am the only one in my family of 4 (Dad, Mom, Sister)…
with a middle name.
I guess I was always spoiled.

Last Name: Skollar
Pronounced “Scholar”.
Pretty cool.
Each new school year,
when I invariably had to correct the teacher’s mispronunciation,
they felt compelled to quip (not-so-cleverly)…
“Well I hope you are one!”
I nodded and forced a smile

“Skollar” is kinda like a nickname.

Speaking of which…
growing up, like all of us, I had my share of nicknames.
In fact, I had lots of them.

Funny thing about nicknames…
for some we can trace their origins,
for others, they just happened.

I am very sure about the origin of one of them.
All my life I’ve been baseball-crazy,
more specifically Yankee-crazy.
If a player played for the Bombers, I loved him.
If he played for another team…he was detested as the enemy.
With one exception…
my favorite non-Yankee…
Rocky Colavito

“The Rock” played for a bunch of teams.
He was a powerful home run hitter and known for his cannon of an arm.
Also happened to be a good-looking dude…and…
HE WAS FROM THE BRONX!!
So it was an easy call to take on the moniker…

“Rocky Skollavito”.

Not only did I take his name…
I also copied all his mannerisms.
A good Italian-Catholic,
Rocky would make the sign of the cross before every at bat…
then he would menacingly point his bat directly at the pitcher.
So, at numerous stickball games…
you could find a skinny Jewish kid stepping up to the plate (sewer),
crossing himself,
and aiming his broomstick bat at some other kid about to deliver a Spauldeen.
Hey…Don’t knock the Rock!
While the “Rocky” part disappeared as I got older….
there are many friends who still call me Skollavito.

There were some other random nicknames as a kid…
“Skollarmachine”…
(Don’t know why??)

“Screwy”…
(based on Donald Duck’s unknown fourth nephew besides Huey, Dewey and Louie).

Then came one of my biggies that still exists with my college buddies…
TIGER!!

The story behind this one came when I was 13.
My buddies and I saw the movie “Irma La Douce”,
starring Jack Lemmon as a French gendarme, Nestor Patou,
who is assigned to oversee and protect the street walkers of Paris …
one being the sexy Irma, Shirley MacLaine (who he falls for).

In one scene…
her big old brutish pimp begins pummeling the slight and timid Nestor…
but Nestor picks himself up again and again,
glares at the pimp
and issues the warning…

”I don’t get mad very often, but when I do, I’m a Tiger”.

He proceeds to close his eyes and knock out the brute.

Of course, being rather meek myself…
my friends immediately bestowed the name Tiger upon me.

Not only did the name stick, (still does today),but over the years…
I’ve received stuffed Tigers, Tiger posters, Tiger birthday cards,
I even had a tiger tail tied to my belt when I played intramural college football!

Note: When I was co-host of a campus radio show, “The Hiatus Hour”…
I was known as” Tiger Skollar”.

Years later, while working at Grey Advertising,
one of my writers for some reason decided to take a personality/aptitude test.
She shared with me the list of ridiculous “insight” questions, ranging from …
”What bird are you?” to…
“Do you have regular bowel movements?”

We shared a good laugh and then she moved on to one more question…
”Do you ever believe you are a messenger from God?”.
I guess I paused a bit too long to respond
and perhaps raised a questioning eyebrow a bit too much
and she cried out…

”YOU DO BELIEVE IT! YOU ARE ‘BOBBO OF NAZARETH’!”.

Thankfully, the Nazarean reference went away…
but the “Bobbo” remained and spread among other Grey co-workers.

“Bubba” was another one.
(Not to be confused with “ Bubbe”, a Jewish Grandma).
I suppose it was a natural extension of Bob,
but somehow Bubba always seemed much more fitting for
a good ol’ boy from the South,
or a defensive lineman.

“Bubba” begat “Bub” and later “Bubsy”.

In more recent years, two new nicknames emerged.

I am very fortunate in that my 30-something daughter
often invites me to hang out with her and her friends.
I try my best to keep up with their “cool”…
and for the most part, hold my own.
For that…
I was rewarded with my own “mash-up” name,
like ARod, PDiddy, JLo…

I am “RoSko”!
(Not to be confused with “Roscoe, the Bed Bug Dog”)

My latest (and perhaps final) nickname,
was bestowed upon me by my two favorite people in the world…
my grandkids, Charlie and Wes.
When Charlotte was born,
there was much discussion as to what I wanted to be called.
The suggestion of Grandpa or Gramps or even Papa
seemed a bit too old for The Forever Kid.
I lobbied for “GrandBubba”…
but that was rejected by their mom as too difficult to say.

Then one day…
as an excited Charlie greeted me at the door
with her incredibly adorable smile…
she blurted out…

PIPA!

When I asked, “What’s Pipa?”…
she responded… “You’re Pipa!”.

So now to 6 year-old Charlie and 4 year-old Wesley….
(and their Mom and Dad)
I am officially…

“Pipa Robert”.