As I sit on the train heading toward San Diego to visit my father I have allowed my mind to wander through the years and smile at the many memories of us. Reflection in this manner is sweet. And sad. It's funny how sweet and sad sometimes hand hands as if intimates.
Anyway, I came across a particular memory I'd like to share with you today. Many of you already know this story but it's a very funny one and bears repeating - for my recent fans friends. It's short and you'll Chuck'le (again).
As a child my father had two nick names for me: Charlie and Butch. Yes, you read that correctly - Butch. I have no idea where that came from or how it started but he called for me using both equally.
About 15 years ago I was telling a coworker this story and when she heard the name Butch she twisted up her face and snarled in amusement, "Butch?"
I too laughed at the obvious ridiculousness, "Yea."
She continued, "Well, he got all the consonants right but he employed the wrong vowel."
We enjoyed a fairly lengthy laugh at her apt joke. Just as you will, once you think about it a second more...
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