In our family, it seems that stubbornness flows in our veins. When Dad was 2, he gained the nickname “Budge” because he wouldn’t budge when he was told to do something. He hated baths especially. One day, his grandmother was visiting and told him he was going to have to take a bath and then a nap. Instead of complying, he sneaked out with his collie, Tippy and ran away, in the process traveling about 3 miles. As dad cut through farmers’ fields, one farmer saw Tippy, but not Dad. The farmer chased the dog away. Tippy ran through a stream on the way home. When he arrived home wet, without Dad, the family panicked and called out the town to look for him. Over 500 people started combing the area.
Lucky for Dad, in his travels, he made a V and steered away from the stream. He fell asleep in an alfalfa field that was being cut. He woke up and started crying. Two nurses were searching in that area and heard him. They took him safely back to his home.
“Budge” morphed over the years into “Bud.” He went by that nickname until I was about 15. His family still calls him by that name. It was actually weird for me when he decided he wanted to go by his given name. He made the decision during a move from one assignment to another, so as he met new people, he just simply dropped the “Bud.” It was harder for my Mom to stop calling him “Bud.” She still calls him “Bud” over 20 years later.