My name is Gordo (affectionately fat). Well, not really. It’s my immediate family nickname — used mostly by my parents when they call or refer to me. (I was chubby baby.)

That said, I’ve always been curious about the genesis of nicknames. My own kids, Samantha, Jada, and Atticus received “Honey Bear,” “J,” and “Papas,” respectively.

My wife calls me “boy.” I often call her “girl.” And when she’s not happy about something I did, it’s unequivocally, “RIGO.” Yes, in all caps!

Of course, no one showcases nicknames better than athletes: The Microwave, He Hate Me, His Airness, White Chocolate, Chocolate Thunder, Iceman, Grandma-ma, The Molester, The Glove, The Greatest, Money, Big Papi, Flo-Jo, The Worm, Wild Thing, The Freak, The Refrigerator, and most recently Madbum, to name a few.

The most enduring nickname in my family belongs to my cousin “Boogie” or “Boo-goo-la,” also known to us as Robert. And among my lifelong friends, Fred Broadnax III is affectionately known to us all as “Dubie.”

Then there are the newbies — kids we’ve met in the last few years: Turtle, Peanut, Jessie James, Wooney, X-Man, Shy-Shy, Rex, and Pancakes.

Nicknames impart affection … and I like that.

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