The story is I was a real cranky baby, probably colic or something. My parents tried everything to no avail. My Great Grandpa, who was born in the 1880's came to visit and suggested a little whiskey, honey and tea. Worked like a charm. He called me a little Toper, an old term for a drinker. It stuck and was eventually shortened to Tope. Grandpa also gave me my first .22 when I was 5, a Winchester model 90 22WRF. Still have it. He passed when I ws 20, sure miss those stories about Montana in the old days.