My dad grew up on a cotton farm in Arkansas. His parents had ten children and dad always said that was because they were trying to produce their own farmhands! I’m sure it was for other reasons, but dad had a way of always trying to make a joke of everything.
There were five boys and five girls. My grandparents gave their children nice Italian sounding names, but the boys acquired nicknames that read like a gangster Mafia list. They really had no ties to the Mafia, but through the years they got many laughs from this, especially when they told how these nicknames were acquired.
When the oldest son came along, he was named Duillio, but later on was called either “Buck” or “Buckshot”. Dad said he acquired this name from plowing a mule in buckshot soil. If you know anything about buckshot, you know this is some of the hardest soil that can be found and tough to plow.
Uncle Buck was also very loud when he talked. It was like he was screaming to make himself heard. I remember being really afraid of him when I was a little kid, usually hiding under the bed when he came around. Dad said that mule he plowed was deaf, thus Uncle Buck was always screaming and shouting at him!
I finally got used to Uncle Buck’s shouting and came to love him very much! He was a real character who is greatly missed!
I’m not real sure about the name of the next oldest son. I’ve heard him called Settimo by my dad and uncles, but I really don’t know. That was supposed to translate to Samuel, but everyone in the family called him “Fat” or “Uncle Fat”.
He got that name, again, according to my dad, because he was overweight as a child. I
really didn’t hear a lot of stories about him, but I do remember hearing that he loved to ride horses.
Of course, the one I know most about was my dad, born next in line of the boys. Orlando was his given name, but acquired the nickname of “Scarface”, later shortened to just “Scar”
When I asked why he was called “Scar”, dad laughed and said:
“One day when I was a little boy, I was chasing a big ole rooster around the yard. I think I disturbed his own chasing of some chickens, he got mad and attacked me. That big rooster jumped right up in my face and started pecking my nose! Next thing I knew I was bleeding, screaming, and running for my mamma! For weeks, I had a big bloody nose that scabbed over really ugly and the kids at school teased me without mercy. They started calling me “Scarface” and that stuck for a long time until it eventually got shortened to “Scar”.
I always thought he made that story up, but he maintained all his life that it was true! My sister said he told her it was his cheek that was pecked, so I don’t know …..ya just never knew about dad on account of him being such a jokester!!
Actually, there was another story he told involving a cat. He said that one day, he came in from the fields for lunch, threw his straw hat upside down on the back porch, and went in to eat. It was one of those extremely hot days in the south that will melt anything and everything.
The family cat decided it was time to do it's "business" and he picked dad's hat that particular day. After lunch, dad gathered up his hat, not noticing anything inside the hat and plopped it on his head! He was unaware of the whole thing, until out under the sweltering sun, the cat's "business" started to stink, melt and run down dad's face! If he had been able to catch that cat, poor thing would not have lived another day!
Dad's papa wouldn't let him get another hat that summer because money was tight and they were allowed only one hat. He had to wear that stinky hat the rest of the summer. I shudder to think what the kids would have called him had that story gotten out!!
After dad, Luigi came along. The only name I ever heard him called was “Bill”, so Uncle Bill it was! I remember him as a fun- loving guy also. Always, laughing, smiling, and joking around with everyone. He never met a stranger! He and his brothers loved to get together and have big cookouts for the whole family!!
Last of the brothers was Aldo, who was called “Al” by most of the family. I never got to meet Uncle Aldo, because he died when he was eighteen years old. My dad was stationed in Alaska during World War II, so he wasn’t there during this time.
The story goes that Uncle Aldo and a friend were on the lake front one day with a rifle. I assume they were hunting. They got into a scuffle of some sort over whose turn it was to use the rife, it went off and struck my uncle. A very unfortunate accident.
All I have of Uncle Aldo is a really nice photo of him in an antique frame, passed down to me and a certificate from his school that states he had perfect attendance and really good grades.
As I stated before, my dad loved to joke and tell stories which I have related from my memory. Who knows whether they are fiction or non-fiction or maybe a mixture of both, but I find them worth telling.
The names are real, however, I can’t attest to the authenticity of the origins!
Hope you enjoyed reading this article!
Remember,
Keep on the Sunnyside!
Photo # 1 Source
Photo #7 Property of the author