When I was born, my folks called me Al.
As far back as I can remember, everyone else called me Alan.
That is, until teenage years. Then we learned it was cool to call each other by our last names. I became Burks.
Then I became an employee and started to write memos. The precursor of email. Oh, what ever happened to typing pools and triplicate and real cc's? As a matter of fact, why does the digital world still use cc?
Anyway, one day I signed a memo with my initials like I had seen a boss do. So, I became AB. Overnight.
Then I had kids. Daddy, Poppy. Now they call me Old Fart, Pops, or when they need money, Dad.
The kids' friends called me Mr. Burks. Then as they got to know me better, it became Mr. B. Until recently. Now they are all grown up at 28 and whatever, so they have taken to calling me Alan. I think it makes them feel all grown up.
Makes me feel younger being on a first name basis with these flatbellies.
In the next phase, when I become a total curmudgeon, I suspect Grumpy Old Al will come into vogue. Fine with me.
As long as nobody calls me Al Zheimer's, it will all be good.