For what it's worth: Oops, I forgot
By MARCELLA BRUCE
Contributing writer
Where does time go? May just arrived it seems and this morning I had a call from Cathy Davis at the Star-Journal with a query "Marcella have you forgotten that your column is scheduled this week?" My answer was an apologetic "yes." So here I am at my typewriter trying to think of something in my memory bank and hunting and pecking at these black keys in my own "inimitable style" (full of mistakes and slow).
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These May days have been beautiful
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Nicknames are still around, and when you hear some of them, you wonder where they originated. In the Bruce family we have a couple. Mother Bruce told me that Kenneth became "Bud" because his just-a-year-older-sister decided that "Bud" was easier to say.
Later, when Bud and I were married and expecting a son we called him Skip (for Skipper) because his father was in the Navy. Somehow the nickname stuck and few outside the family know that his is really Kenneth Martin Bruce. The reason the Martin is there is because when I asked my parents for name suggestions, my father said, "I don't care what you name him just so you put Martin in there somewhere."
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Bud's birthplace was Marquette. He grew up there in the predominately Swedish community, and you talk about nicknames. Some of the residents came up with a list of more than 80, and I would like to share a few with you: Sox Johnson, Grease Johnson, Froggie Yarnell, Squirrel Peterson, Spike and Spot Nelson, Dopey Peterson, Butter Barclay, Boopity and Dirty Face Carlson, Biggy Sjogren, Possum Swanson, and Wimpy and Tuffy Roller.
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"To live is good. To live vividly is better. To live vividly together is best." — Max Eastman
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Later this month will the fourth year since the death of "the man in my life." I still mourn that loss, just as so many other widows mourn theirs, but I am so grateful and happy for the years we had and the times we shared; and for the children and the grandchildren who enrich our lives. Blessings all!
