Gertrude, Ethel, Pearl -we all know and love Asian immigrants who anachronistically rename themselves after reaching the shores of the United States. Heck, even in Honduras you are constantly running into people with names like Melvin, Marvin and Shirley. Not wanting to succumb to this alarming trend, our Vietnamese neighbors in Chicago carefully studied American cultural trends before bestowing a name upon their young son. As it was the mid-eighties, he was dubbed “Rambo.”
He and my little brother quickly became fast friends and little Rambo was a regular visitor to our home. Some neighborhood kid ingeniously nicknamed him “Ramboner,” and who were we to buck the trend? Later, in the hallowed halls of junior high, I gained some insight into the etymology of the moniker and realized how hilarious it was that we were allowed to use it. Let’s just say that my little sister thought that Babe (that movie about a pig) had a swear in it because Babe threatens to kick someone’s butt.
Every time I said “Ramboner” in my house, I felt an overwhelming sense of freedom and excitement. My memory is a little murky on this one, but I’m pretty sure that my dad even said it a few times.
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