Tag: Creel

My dad would have been 86 years old today. His last birthday this side of heaven was ten years ago.

He was born in 1940 in Creel Town (Empire), Walker County, Alabama, at his grandmother Minnie Creel’s home. (The house is gone, but I own the homeplace.) Creel Town was named for his prolific Creel family that covered the area.  

Though his birth certificate read Frederick Stephen Rizzo, everyone knew him as Bucky.

There are two variations to the story of how he came by the name.

In both versions his mother and father were at odds over his name when he was born. One version of the story was that his dad finally relented in frustration and said, “I don’t care what you name him. You can call him Buckshot if you want to.” In the other version, the one I tend to believe, his mother said, “He’s my son, and I’ll call him Buckshot if I want to.”

And so despite the name on his birth certificate, Buckshot was what he was called. Then over time it morphed into Bucky and sometimes just Buck, though my son frequently referred to him lovingly as Buckshot after he heard the story of his naming.

When Dad started school, his teacher, Mrs. Hill, asked him to write his name on a paper. He wrote Bucky Rizzo. She told him to write his real name. He insisted that Bucky was his real name. After some ardent communication and consternation, he relented and learned his “real” name. But to that point, Bucky was the only name he knew himself by.

(Incidentally, Mrs. Hill was Hazel Duncan Hill who was married to Stanely Hill. Stanely was the son of Ed and Millie Creel Hill. Millie was my grandmother’s aunt. As I said, the Creels were prolific.)

Though he accepted his “real” name was Fredrick, the way he spelled it, he was still Bucky. In fact, eventually he had to legally add Bucky to his name because so many people used Bucky on checks and other legal documents.

To his nieces and nephews, he was Uncle Bucky. When grands came along, he was Bucky Daddy (and my mom was Boof Mama). Of course, over time, they, too, just settled on Bucky.

And to the many he befriended, he was Bucky, and he was a devoted, faithful friend.

In his sermon at Dad’s funeral, Randy Eubanks said that there was an argument among his friends over who was his best friend. One young man told Mother that till the day of Dad’s funeral when he heard so many tell stories of their relationship with Dad, he thought he was special to Dad, and he was special, but he was not unique because Bucky could love wide as well as deep.

At the graveside, two of his oldest friends if not his best friends, since the argument was never settled, closed the service. Bill Ridgeway read a scripture and Ed Williams prayed, then gave a final salutation on behalf of everyone: “We’ll see you later, Bucky.”

He was always Bucky.