About the Frog

I apologize for the many days since my last blog.  I have started several times to get back to it and there have just been too many things going on and I have been too tired to do it.  I actually feel kind of bad about it since I left everyone with a bit of a cliff hanger.  I do that on purpose to keep you all interested and it appeals to my dark sinister side.  That being said, it only works if you don't keep your audience waiting too long, they get bored and give up or lose interest.


Fortunately I have a tale here that sparks a lot of interest and should draw a crowd.  I mean really, who else has a father that instead of being called Grandpa, or paw paw, or papaw, or even Opa, goes by the moniker Bull Frog, or Frog?  It just isn't your every day nickname, and the weird thing is all the kids and their friends love it, and call him Frog.  There is something special about that and it has become a subtle privilege that the kids all enjoy.  With a wisp of pride, they will introduce him as Frog and eagerly await the response.  He eats up the attention too.  


Now as for the story itself, there are several variations, none of which fully account for the label.  The Frog himself claims that he received the nickname as a child when he either fell down a well, or was sent down a well and was stuck for a period of time.  An uncle who observed his predicament said he "looked like a bullfrog down in that well!"  and the name stuck.  I don't buy it, it doesn't have a transition to today.  I mean why did I never hear that nick name all the years I spent growing up in his house?  Then it magically shows up again when my kids came along?  I don't think so.  Not that I doubt my dad's story, I just don't think it accounts for the superglue adhesion of the name today.


My story is more interesting, and brings the issue into the modern era.  When my oldest daughter was expanding my ex-wife's midsection, the ex got a cold that left her voice weak and raspy.  She sounded like a frog.  I began to tease her with the nickname froggy, and accuse her of getting ready to have a polliwog.  All in good fun of course.  A few days later, my dad ended up with a similar sore throat, and I said "great, the wife is all froggy, were having a polliwog and my dad has turned into a bullfrog."  As the kids got older I liked to tell the story about that and eventually they started calling him by the name.


OK, that's kinda weak too.  


Another version involves my dad brainwashing the kids when they were young by saying "Frog" over and over again until they started saying it.  His motivation was to avoid getting some boring nickname that would make him feel old...this is one of my mom's theories.  In order to fully understand the irony of my last statement see my previous blog "Back to Nana and Frog." 


Another version that my dad tried to put forth involved some story he wrote about looking like Clark Gable
but the details of that story were written down in a letter to my daughter on the occasion of her 18th birthday, and I will leave that to others to relate. If I can get a copy of that story and permission from the Frog, I will tell it too.


Unfortunately there will forever be some mystery about the source of the nickname.  I suppose its better that way.  Perhaps one day the whole truth will come out, but in the mean time we will have to enjoy the name and the man who owns it!