As I was sitting on my porch this morning, coffee in hand, I was preparing for the departure of my wife. She was headed down south to a gathering of the family. We both could not go on this trip so she is representing both of us. We started yesterday by cleaning out and washing the truck. She then started packing the truck with gifts that she had wrapped that day. She also placed all the change of clothes that should cover the five day trip. At this point I am the husband, uncle and grandfather who stayed at home.
I thought about this and all the different names, titles or hats that I wear just by being alive. I’m going to review some of those titles, not in an order of importance but rather as it strikes my mind. First, I am Steve, a 66-year-old white man with minimal health issues and the self-image that refuses to be old. I never really met my grandparents so it is not know what they would’ve called me. But my mom and dad, when they were alive, call me Stephen. If I was in trouble they use my complete name, first middle and last. While I was working I was called Officer Sumner or Detective Sumner or just Sumner. Police departments, like the military, tend to call you by your last name rather than your rank or your first name. So who was I? To some people I was a good guy. When they were in trouble and needed help I was there to do so. To others I was the fuzz, heat (many names I will not use) or PoPo. I was a hero by the first group and hated by the second group. I was a collector of facts in the court or a liar in the minds of the family of the arrestee.
I also was Steve the husband. Although my wife does not use my name Steve as often as some sort of pet name, like sweetheart or honey. Of course if I’ve done something wrong she, like my parents, uses my full name. After my marriage I became Uncle Steve. To some of my nieces and nephews I was a positive person in their life. To others I was a very strict and grumpy old man who just happened to be a family member. Of course I was a brother, big brother, to my siblings. I was the oldest of four children and therefore called big brother, now I weigh so much the title is just. To my mom and dad I was their son. And they lovingly called me that until the day they left this earth. To my children I am pops, or dad. And have been called those names since they could talk. I’ve never been called Steve by my children, but their wives many times call me Steve. I am a father-in-law and uncle in law. As I’ve gotten older I become Mr. Sumner. I always associated that name with my dad. I considered it a name of respect and so begrudgingly accept the title of Mr. Sumner. When I was working I was the employee or later on the boss. They use of my name Steve and Mr. Sumner in accordance with occasion I was present at.
I bring up all these names, titles or hats because even though I am one person I am all of these. I always found it amazing, while listening to the news or working with the police department, the use of different titles when describing a person. I have arrested people for murder only to find out in court that they were:” my son, a dad, a dedicated husband, a person who would give their shirt off their back for you, a mom, a wife, a gentle soul or a good person.” It depended on who you are asking.
I have only mentioned a few of the names or titles that I, like you, possess. Lately, I’m called a disabled veteran, a senior citizen or Pops. Each of the names or titles have a special meaning. Some of them are good, some are bad and some have no real meaning at all. To the store I am the customer, to the return desk I am a complaining customer. Even though I could say that words do not hurt me I would be lying. I am proud of some of the names and titles and I am saddened by what others call me. When I look at myself I am a man of many names, titles and hats.
During this time of the season I am Santa and like many of you out there I enjoyed the season of giving. So I will end this blog with that title and say “Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.”
Pops
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