"I've actually never met a "Bubba," but I understand that's the Numero Uno nickname for anyone from the Deep South in the United States. I have not concluded whether it is a term of endearment or ridicule."
The words above are from an article my brother Mike recently penned that will appear in the UO in coming months. Now, my brother and I were born in the same small South Georgia town, though neither of us lived there very long. Our father was in the military, and we moved quite a bit, but seldom out of the South prior to the time I left home. I attended universities in the South and remained there until I came to Ukraine six years ago. My brother, on the other hand, traveled further afield, leaving the Southland. Some consider West Virginia a southern state. Sillier still, some refer to Washington, D.C. as a southern city. Mike spent a large portion of his career in those locales.
Still, I don't know how he missed the Bubbas. When I originally read the quote above I pondered it a little, but not too much. Coincidence, however, interrupted to bring the matter to the forefront again.
The name of an acquaintance of mine was in the paper recently. Unfortunately, it had to do with his untimely and premature demise some ten years ago. It was on March 21, 1994 that Atlanta Journal and Constitution columnist Lewis Grizzard died. More on Lewis later, but a number of his more memorable columns were reprinted in the AJC this March 21st. One such column concerned the Bubbas of the world. Lewis had known more than a few. And he elaborated on those Bubbas plus several he had interviewed over the phone after having found their names in a phone directory.
These two matters having come to my attention so close together, one might understand why I might begin to ponder them. I had to confess to myself that while I knew a few Bubbas and had a special Bubba friend, I hadn't the foggiest notion of how or why the name came to be. But, as a student of all things important, I decided to check the Internet. A Google search produced some surprises.
I think Bubba is less Southern American than it is British! Imagine that: Classy, sassy, merry old England; aristocratic, "keep a stiff upper lip" England; polite, gentlemanly England (And of course, the football hooligan England too).
The truth according to the Internet:
Bubb: (Old English: Bubba) Bubba ruled the kingdom of Lindsey, circa 650.
"At dinner a friend told me that she has a recording of German classical music on which a singer refers to her lover as "Mein Bub, mein Schatz." My friend said Bub must mean "sweetheart" in German and the source of the Yiddish word bubele. I was born in Germany (left as a child, however) and told her I'd never heard of the German word Bub. What light can you shed on Bub and bubbele?"
"In a word list appearing in a chapter titled "Yinglish 101," "Meshuggenary" has an entry for "bubele."' It reads in part: "Bubele - Darling or sweetheart. Sometimes shortened to bubby (though beware that the intonation doesn't hide sarcasm). Bubele is a completely unisex endearment used between spouses, lovers, parents and children. The Yiddish word literally means little grandma, and was originally an endearment for baby girls; but as all babies can be equally cute, the word got to be used for baby boychiks as well."
"Bubele is a diminutive of bube, the Polish and Ukrainian Yiddish word for grandmother. The Lithuanian and standard Yiddish form is bobe."
"To squelch an unfounded rumor: bobe is not the origin of the Southern U.S. nickname Bubba. (Emphasis mine)"
Ok. Maybe the word "proof" should be in quotes, delineating my "research" as being something less than scholarly. However, this was after about two hours of diligent Googling. Anyway, I'm satisfied.
The Bubba I know best is a good friend. I've known him for some 30 years. He's a tall, rugged guy who calls LA home. For those not Southern born and bred, LA refers to Lower Alabama, not the place on the left coast of the United States where Hollywood stars abide.
Now it wasn't until after I'd known Bubba that I found this just to be a nickname. Some readers possibly think Bubba would always be such. No, in preparing legal documents for him I learned that his legal name was Vivian. No, this isn't one of those "a boy named Sue" situations. Bubba, I don't think had any problems being called Vivian. It's just that he was... well Bubba, always had been and always would be. So one can see there can be pride in the moniker Bubba. Not so much likeness, mind you, as one fellow I read about in my Google research. On or about January 12, 2003 a Springfield, Illinois man named Raymond Allen Gray, Jr. changed his legal name to Bubba Bubba Bubba. That may indicate that his tote sack was leaking some cotton and that he was a few bricks shy of a load, but it was something that my friend Bubba wasn't afflicted with.
Bubba was fun to be around. That, plus the fact that he grew up with Al, was the reason he was one of a group of guys that spent a good part of our time in our 30's and 40's partying together. It was a continuation of a kind of perpetual road trip that we'd been on since our college days. Permanent members of the group seemed to be Al, Jim, Danny, Bubba and me. Others tagged along over the years, but none whose presence was required like the five of us.
We made the "Redneck Riviera" our home several times each year during the warm months (some cold too). Plus, individually in various combinations, we bareboated in the Caribbean, went skiing (not me), fished, hunted, played golf, went to stock car races and bar hopped. But it was those three to five day road trips to PC and a few other places on the Riviera that were the most fun.
PC stands for Panama City, the town situated on the Gulf of Mexico in Florida's Panhandle. Oh, we made it from Apalachicola to New Orleans and stops in between: Destin-Ft. Walton, Gulf Shores, Biloxi-Gulfport and so on. But PC was the thing.
Yes, we did a lot together. We were all mostly respectable businessmen or professionals, engaged in real estate, law, accounting, television and so on. Except for Bubba, who worked at a plant. But Bubba was Bubba. He did interesting things. He never married, lived at home and did miss some beach time due to personal conflicts. The personal conflicts were racing weekends. He was stock car and NASCAR before it was cool. He made a hobby of automobile engines. He did something to them that, for a time, brought in extra money. He made some kind of adjustments or altered something (I like the races, but I'm mechanically impaired) in such a way that some NASCAR drivers required his services.
So maybe Bubba was a "Bubba" in the sense that some think of southern "good ole boy" Bubbas. I don't think either Vivian or Bubba would mind. I certainly don't. I'm kind of proud of the ol' boy. He's my good friend.
The space I can take up for this article runs short. I haven't yet told of the stories and the doin's of us boys down in PC. I said we were mostly "respectable." True, but sometimes we did some things that some folks might not consider so respectable. Memories come back of nights at the infamous Gold Nugget Lounge, days and nights at La Vela, Spinnaker and the Beach Party. In recovery mode at poolside, house parties, shrimp and crab boils, deep sea fishing (a rarity, because running 40 miles out before rigging, spotting from a tuna tower, even hooking a sizeable billfish takes party time away). But, we didn't get into fights and no one ever got hurt.
Next time, maybe I'll have room for more on my acquaintance Lewis Grizzard. He gained some fame. And he died too early at 47. He was from tiny Moreland, Georgia. He was a fine humorist, writer, newsman and Southerner.
He was a good ole boy. RIP.
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