His name was Gustav.
In Sweden, it is guttural Yusta, sort of.
In America, it is Gustav,
as in Gus-tav.
His parents called him guttural Yusta, sort of.
He disliked being called Gustav.
He hated being called Gus.
Said it sounded like a GD something or other,
but he tried not to bother,
he would just grumble, sort of,
around his son named Robert,
a name meaning of great fame,
a Norman name with a nickname
Bob, easy to pronounce, the same
coming and going, all-around-nice-guy,
like Bob Hope, the ultimate nice guy.
Gust probably wanted it easy for Bob.
There were two ballgame announcers
in the booth when a ballplayer came
to the plate. One announcer announced,
“And now coming to the plate is
the Son of God.” The other announcer
shouted, “No, that’s Haysues.”
Try on Fünfhundertfünfundfünfzig. It’s not
a human’s name. It translates as five-hundred-
fifty-five and probably can be pronounced about
that many ways. If Fünfhundertfünfundfünfzig
were a guy, what way
would be Fünfhundertfünfundfünfzig’s way?
He probably would say,
“Just call me Bob.”