Cool McCool

That's the nickname my dad would give people who were the coolest of the cool.

When I was a kid, that was Uncle Bo, my dad's youngest brother and seventeen years his junior. Due to his age and unmarried status, he was more like an much-older cousin instead of a full-blown adult like his older and married, with children, siblings.

Uncle Bo's real name is James. "James" evolved into "Jim" which evolved into "Jimbo" then eventually just "Bo". Much cooler than Jimmy. Even as a child, his parents called him Bo. Except for when he got in trouble - then I'm sure he got the full three name treatment, just like the rest of us. My dad tells a story of when he took a call at the house. "Is James there," the caller inquired. "Sorry," my dad replied, "there's not a James who lives here." Several minutes after he hung up, he realized James was his own flesh and blood. Knowing the inevitability of his son's nickname, Bo named his son Beau, and the two are now Big Bo and Little Bo.

Our family Christmas visits to Colorado used to be more frequent, and I miss that. Some of my favorite memories were made while making the sadistic trek to Pueblo, the five of us stuffed into a compact car for the 13 hour non-stop journey. We'd usually pull up to Grandma's house right before sunrise. Mom would wake us kids up when we got off the highway so we wouldn't be entirely groggy when we arrived at the house. As we pulled onto her street, we always knew which house was hers because of the porch light guiding us.

On Christmas morning, my brother and I would wake up extra early so we could go outside and play in the snow before we unwrapped presents. But we were always warned to be quiet playing outside not to wake up Uncle Bo. After most of the family was gathered around the tree, some poor sucker was always called upon to go wake him. Invariably, he had a hot date the night before and didn't get home until the early hours. Another reason he was Cool McCool. Fortunately, I was too young to be called upon; the aunts and uncles, knowing the near impossibility of waking the dead, sent an older cousin down to do their dirty work.

Later that evening, he would he shower and get dressed for another hot date that night - with a different girlfriend, of course. He was the first person I saw who brushed his teeth while walking around the house without a shirt on. That was just too cool. The first time I tried to do that, I ended dribbling toothpaste down my chest and making a mess on the carpet. Uncool.

During one Winter visit, Uncle Bo took my brother and I out to the mountains in his truck. I'll speak for myself but I was a bit intimidated at spending time alone with somebody that cool. I was a dorky pre-teen and my brother wasn't much cooler. What would we talk about? What would I say? Bo did most of the talking while he played his cool music; he told us stories about camping and fishing and that kept us intrigued. A few minutes later, he pointed out where the snow had begun to melt and flooded an area in the driving path.

Again, I'll speak for myself. I would have avoided that area and found an alternate route. Uncle Bo drove right through it, stopped in the middle, and told us to open the truck door. Doing what we were told, the river was almost high enough to flood the cab of the truck. That was too cool.

I bring this up because because I watched Come Blow Your Horn early this morning. It's a 1963 Sinatra film (based on a Neil Simon play with the screenplay by Norman Lear - how can you go wrong?) in which Sinatra plays a character much like himself - a bachelor, named Alan, unable to be tied down to one woman. His younger brother, Buddy, has decided to leave Yonkers, move to the city, and play protege to his much cooler brother. Except for Buddy, it doesn't come as easy. It's a contrived cool, the obviously un-hip dressing hip and using hip language. It made me think to back when I tried to do the same. Now, I'm firmly comfortable in what I call my geek bravado, as the next story will prove.

In the movie, Phyllis McGuire has a small role. She is, of course, one-third of the quite stunning and beautiful voiced trio, the McGuire sisters. She was also a longtime mistress of Sam Giancana. Their biggest hit, and namesake of a fabulous HBO movie, is Sugartime. Being the very catchy melody it is, I soon found myself dancing around the living room singing their hit song, occasionally substituting the dog's name in place of "sugar" and "honey". I was able to blow it off to having a tired night before - at work until 9:15, ate my first meal of the day at 10, in bed at 10:30 and up again at 5:30 unable to sleep.

However, I secretly know better. I'd be singing and dancing even if I was well rested and well fed. It's just that good a song.

Keeping up with my tradition of late, here are the lyrics:

Well . . .
Sugar in the mornin
Sugar in the evenin
Sugar at suppertime
Be my little sugar
And love me all the time

Honey in the mornin
Honey in the evenin
Honey at suppertime
So by my little honey
And love me all the time

Put your arms around me
And swear by stars above
Youll be mine forever
In a heaven of love

Sugar in the mornin
Sugar in the evenin
Sugar at suppertime
Be my little sugar
And love me all the time

Well, well
Sugar in the mornin
Sugar in the evenin
Sugar at suppertime
Be my little sugar
And love me all the time

Honey in the mornin
Honey in the evenin
Honey at suppertime
So by my little honey
And love me all the time

Put your arms around me
And swear by stars above
Youll be mine forever
In a heaven of love

Sugar in the mornin
Sugar in the evenin
Sugar at suppertime
Be my little sugar
And love me all the . . .

Now Sugartime (sugartime)
Is anytime that youre near (that youre near)
Cause you're so dear
So don't you roam (don't roam)
Just be my honeycomb (honeycomb, honeycomb)
And live in a heaven of love.

Sugar in the mornin
Sugar in the evenin
Sugar at suppertime
Be my little sugar
And love me (love me)
All (all all all)
The time

Sugartime
Sugartime
Sugartime!