Everybody on both sides of my family had nicknames. They weren’t meant to hurt anyone, just a friendly jab at your ego, “so you don’t get to big for your britches” I suppose. My dad was Red (he had flaming red hair as a boy) my mother was Bip ( the unlikely name of a man in the area where she grew up,by the name of Bip Stiffler, who had big feet) Mom didn’t have big feet but her siblings love to tease her about it. One uncle was P.I. (Porter Inman) Grandad Inman was Jerry (his name was James) a cousin was Hot Shot, another was Cotton, Grandad Bolin was Jake (real name William Dolphos) another cousin Froggy. After a while you just accept it and answer to the nick name. When talked about in a story (Hot Shot and P.I. went to the store) there was no mix up, everybody knew who you meant . One day Dad was spinin’ one of his yarns (telling a story) I ask him to tell all the nicknames he could remember and he did and there must have been a dozen or so. Then he picked up where he left off and said “well the fight was on.” we were all ’bout in are teens I guess; when Fount took out a pocket knife and stuck ol’ P.I. with it. I said “what you mean uncle Porter” he said yes sir.”Didn’t do much damage but scared him pretty bad” I jumped ol’ Fount and beat hell out of him and he went limpin’ home. You say F.o.u.n.t Fount, that’s an unusaual nick name. Naw ain’t his nickname, that’s his real name Fount Gooch..it struck me so funny I doubled over laughing…