A Confession...
Hi, I'm Ron and....I'm a "Bubba".
There. I've said it and I feel liberated somehow.
Apparently, every Southern clan has a "Bubba" and I'm IT for my family in the South. The fact is that most of my relatives on my dad's side are Yankees. Hell, my Dad was a Yankee..... but he got better after living down South most of his life. Of course, he still calls his hometown "Baldimur" as opposed to "Baltimore". Hell, we can't all be true Sountherners right?
I am, was and always will be MY family's "Bubba" or "Bub" depending on how big a hurry they are in when referring to me. It's a heavy burden to bear but, being a true sack of Southern masculinity....I can handle the responsibility. After all, "Bubba's" don't shirk their Bubbaditidy...they embrace it!
I became "Bubba" when my older brother couldn't pronounce "brother" which, I suspect is how most Southern boys become "Bubba's" in the first place. Mike was (and IS , of course), the first born son to Howard Ronnello (yep....Ronnello) II, scion of a well to do family in Baltimore . His bizarre old man kicked him out of the palatial family manse at the tender age of fifteen. My paternal grandfather's attorney gave my dad twenty five bucks and a hearty, "hope you have a nice life". (I'm not making this up!)
Ronnello the elder was nuttier than squirrell droppings especially after my Grandma went insane probably from living with his crazy ass. (Again...who the hell could make this stuff up?)
ANYHOW.....My old man met Mom at the tender age of seventeen while visiting a five and dime store in Charleston, S.C. where she was working as a cashier.
My Mom, Blondine, (again...I couldn't invent this stuff) was (and IS) a drop dead gorgeous strawberry blonde who who was named for a popular hair dye at the time and she stopped my Dad dead in his tracks once he laid eyes on her.
Dad was a cross between a muscle bound Tony Curtis and Sean Connery. (Don't doubt me folks...I'll include pictures if you insist.) Pop was a latter day Greek god who was in the Navy at the time because he had convinced his nutcase father to sign a permission slip allowing him to join the Navy at fifteen because my Dad LOOKED to be of age AND the crazy old bastard didn't want to have support my under-aged father OR his two older, yet still dependent sisters. He was a real prick who, I'm certain, has a lot to answer for if he ever gets near the Pearly Gates!
Back to the story.....
My Dad REFUSED to allow his first born male child to carry the name "Ronnello" probably because it had caused him so much, shall we say, turmoil in his youth. In any case, he probably didn't want Mike to have to deal with that shit.
Fast forward approximately fourteen months and Blondine was with child again. You could say I suppose, that she was actually "with Ronnello" because, by now, Dad had decided that, if they were blessed with another son, he would proudly bestow upon that unfortunate little shit the family name of "Ronnello". That would be me.
Now...I've gotta ask you...How many "thirds" do YOU know who were actually the SECOND born son to a guy named, the second or Junior? Hmmm?
Answer......NONE!!!
Aren't they usually, almost ALWAYS, unfailingly.... THE FIRST BORN SON? You bet your ass they are!
Well....I became the third...III....Trey....Trip...Ronnello so....of course, I embraced the "BUBBA" tag!
As a result and for a long time, I upheld the Code of the "Bubba" which apparenty goes something like this:
Always be a bit different than your siblings.
Play Futtball...not Football....Futtball. Thanks to Coach Shealy.
Find new and ingenious ways to screw up.
Break the law a few times AND get caught doing so.
Drink too much AND too often.
Smoke too much of everything way too often.
Get married and divorced TWICE before the age of thirty.
Survive what SHOULD have been a lethal car crash brought about by a severe attack of dumbass.
Play music in the kind of bars where they search you for weapons when you arrive and loan you one 'till you leave if you forgot to bring yours with you.
Never pass up an opportunity to say the wrong thing at the wrong time to the wrong people.
Never give a fat rat's ass what other people think of you!
And last but not least....
Get past the past and eventually become a better man.
Most "Bubba's" do.... EVENTUALLY. I thank God that I did.
They really should develop a twelve step program for "Bubba's".....
Hi....I'm Ron...and I'm a recovering "Bubba".
There. I've said it and I feel liberated somehow.
Apparently, every Southern clan has a "Bubba" and I'm IT for my family in the South. The fact is that most of my relatives on my dad's side are Yankees. Hell, my Dad was a Yankee..... but he got better after living down South most of his life. Of course, he still calls his hometown "Baldimur" as opposed to "Baltimore". Hell, we can't all be true Sountherners right?
I am, was and always will be MY family's "Bubba" or "Bub" depending on how big a hurry they are in when referring to me. It's a heavy burden to bear but, being a true sack of Southern masculinity....I can handle the responsibility. After all, "Bubba's" don't shirk their Bubbaditidy...they embrace it!
I became "Bubba" when my older brother couldn't pronounce "brother" which, I suspect is how most Southern boys become "Bubba's" in the first place. Mike was (and IS , of course), the first born son to Howard Ronnello (yep....Ronnello) II, scion of a well to do family in Baltimore . His bizarre old man kicked him out of the palatial family manse at the tender age of fifteen. My paternal grandfather's attorney gave my dad twenty five bucks and a hearty, "hope you have a nice life". (I'm not making this up!)
Ronnello the elder was nuttier than squirrell droppings especially after my Grandma went insane probably from living with his crazy ass. (Again...who the hell could make this stuff up?)
ANYHOW.....My old man met Mom at the tender age of seventeen while visiting a five and dime store in Charleston, S.C. where she was working as a cashier.
My Mom, Blondine, (again...I couldn't invent this stuff) was (and IS) a drop dead gorgeous strawberry blonde who who was named for a popular hair dye at the time and she stopped my Dad dead in his tracks once he laid eyes on her.
Dad was a cross between a muscle bound Tony Curtis and Sean Connery. (Don't doubt me folks...I'll include pictures if you insist.) Pop was a latter day Greek god who was in the Navy at the time because he had convinced his nutcase father to sign a permission slip allowing him to join the Navy at fifteen because my Dad LOOKED to be of age AND the crazy old bastard didn't want to have support my under-aged father OR his two older, yet still dependent sisters. He was a real prick who, I'm certain, has a lot to answer for if he ever gets near the Pearly Gates!
Back to the story.....
My Dad REFUSED to allow his first born male child to carry the name "Ronnello" probably because it had caused him so much, shall we say, turmoil in his youth. In any case, he probably didn't want Mike to have to deal with that shit.
Fast forward approximately fourteen months and Blondine was with child again. You could say I suppose, that she was actually "with Ronnello" because, by now, Dad had decided that, if they were blessed with another son, he would proudly bestow upon that unfortunate little shit the family name of "Ronnello". That would be me.
Now...I've gotta ask you...How many "thirds" do YOU know who were actually the SECOND born son to a guy named, the second or Junior? Hmmm?
Answer......NONE!!!
Aren't they usually, almost ALWAYS, unfailingly.... THE FIRST BORN SON? You bet your ass they are!
Well....I became the third...III....Trey....Trip...Ronnello so....of course, I embraced the "BUBBA" tag!
As a result and for a long time, I upheld the Code of the "Bubba" which apparenty goes something like this:
Always be a bit different than your siblings.
Play Futtball...not Football....Futtball. Thanks to Coach Shealy.
Find new and ingenious ways to screw up.
Break the law a few times AND get caught doing so.
Drink too much AND too often.
Smoke too much of everything way too often.
Get married and divorced TWICE before the age of thirty.
Survive what SHOULD have been a lethal car crash brought about by a severe attack of dumbass.
Play music in the kind of bars where they search you for weapons when you arrive and loan you one 'till you leave if you forgot to bring yours with you.
Never pass up an opportunity to say the wrong thing at the wrong time to the wrong people.
Never give a fat rat's ass what other people think of you!
And last but not least....
Get past the past and eventually become a better man.
Most "Bubba's" do.... EVENTUALLY. I thank God that I did.
They really should develop a twelve step program for "Bubba's".....
Hi....I'm Ron...and I'm a recovering "Bubba".
posted by Rantin' Ron | 4:46 PM
9 Comments:
Geeesh I'm bored, or I was till I read your Bubba blog. I've been watching the rebound of the stock markets all day and occasionally reading a few blogs and news articles. This was by far the best thing I've read today
(OK, second best...first has to be yahoo: up over a dollar five..woohooo) So, the real Bubba Ronnello is revealed to be a boozin, law breakin, futtballin screw up. Nice.
By the way, get this - my husband was a third AND the second son in his family. No joke. His father was William Richard, Jr. and my husband was William Richard, III. His older brother is Robert William. And why was he not given the honor of the third? Answer: he wasn't expected to live more than a day or two when he was born. My father-in-law didn't want to waste the "THIRD" on a baby that wasn't gonna make it. I guess Robert showed them all, he's the only male in the entire family still living.
Thanks for the nice comment. I'll take being second to the Yahoo news!
That IS ironic..I've never met ANYONE who was a second born III. Unreal.
Have a great day Teresa.
It's good to know that I'll be remembered each time an unnamed puppy is born....I think. LOL
Hope you have a great day Keeper.
What kind of puplet-puppies do you raise Keeper?
Keeper, Maltese are sweet little mops. I love em. I was curious because I showed English Springer Spaniels in conformation and obedience for about 15 years. I also put tracking degrees on all my dogs...now that's fun! I was young at the time and my best show buddy friends and I would hit all the shows from Atlanta to Canada. We camped in Woodstock, Tavistock, and Toronto with our dogs and put Canadian obedience degrees on all of them...a big waste of time and money but those were such fun times. About twelve years ago I quit showing...all my springers are long gone. I now have 2 roudy Australian Shepherds and a couple of mutts that were tossed out of a car near my driveway.
ooops I just realized "rowdy" is not spelled "roudy." Now, where is that dictionary?? Keeper, if you want to share your website I would love to see it. You can send the link by email...my email is TRigell@aol.com
Just hopped back on.
Keeper, feel free to leave your site addy. I'd love to see it. We have a new cocker spaniel waid we adopted or it adopted us. It just showed up one day and now it's stolen our hearts.
I'm new to blogging and don't know what IS "appropriate" but you are welcomed to do so.
P.S...
I just got my first "spammer" trying to sell me something via this comment board. Hah...I've arrived.
Ya'll have a good one.
Looks nice! Awesome content. Good job guys.
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