The Septuagenarian #9-22

What’s in a Name? My mother always called me Johnny, seldom John, or John Melbourne, but never, I believe Son. As a kid all my other relatives used Johnny. After all, I was a skinny kid and being puny Johnny seemed to fit.  As for the old man, he never used my name when talking to me. I was always rove, chief, or Murgatroyd. Until he died, I never heard him address me by… Continue reading The Septuagenarian #9-22