I’ve been called many names, held various titles in my
day. Some of them complimentary,
endearing, even reverential…some, less so.
Some of my friends and co-workers at an old job used to call me:
“Professor.” I don’t know if it’s
because they considered me especially learned and intelligent, or if it was
more for my propensity to send them off to search the dictionary every time
they needed clarification on a certain spelling or meaning of a word of the
English language of which they knew I have some affinity and aptitude. Though I’m not now nor ever was an actual
professor, I wore/wear that title with some pride. In addition to a few teachers and professors
I’ve had in my past, including my father who taught me so much, I have great
respect for those who pass on their knowledge and wisdom to others and endeavor
to do so myself in my daily life.
I coached soccer at various levels for about 20 years,
everything from pee-wee 3-5 year olds through my old town’s rec dept. to
Saturday morning rec teams, travel teams, both JV and Varsity at four different
area high schools and even an adult women’s indoor team. I loved coaching as coaching is another form
of teaching, and similar to a martial arts “sensei,” the term of “Coach”
implies not only respect for the person and the position but respect that that
person commands a certain level of expertise in the specific game or
endeavor. Whether it was slapping five and
tumbling around the grass with my five year old players, teaching proper
heading techniques to high school players, or trying to explain the nuances of
attacking and defending play through the utilization of salt and pepper shakers
and beer bottles to my woman’s team at the post-game debriefing at Margarita’s
Restaurant, I felt some pride when I was addressed as “Coach” by my
players.
I’m also a parent and held the attending title to that role
for many years. But I’ve been estranged
from my three boys for some years now and there is so much pain associated with
the circumstances of our separation that I prefer not to ruminate too much (I
do anyway) about their excising me from their lives. Regardless of their ill feelings towards me,
I was, and remain their blood, and will so for time eternal. It’s my hope that someday they can find a way
to forgive me for being less than perfect, a flawed human as much as
anyone. Perhaps when they have their own
children they might gain some insight and understand that a parent will always
hold their child in her heart, no matter the circumstance; I love and worry for
them daily and pray that they not only find happiness in their lives (not an
easy task for any of us) but grow and mature into good human beings. For now, that’s all I have…
I struggle to define myself sometimes these days. My job as a nurse’s assistant affords me a
title and role of sorts. I’m a comforter
to the ailing and dying and go about my duties in that role with a measure of
pride. There is something uniquely
intangible but very rewarding about caring for others, even though the job is
difficult, emotional, stressful, and usually thankless. But though I’m proud of what I do, that role
doesn’t wholly define me.
So, like most of us, I continually search for my place in
this world, my role, my title, my purpose.
As I move into the latter part of my middle-aged years, it becomes
increasing apparent that I may never find true love in this life, that the
title and role of lover, partner, spouse, or even simple girlfriend grows
further from the realm of possibilities for me…it hurts to think that this is
so, but I can’t let it cripple me; there has to be another position for someone
like me who has so much love and compassion that I am desperate to share…
The Hawaiians have a term of endearment for elder female
members of the extended ohana: Auntie.
One doesn’t necessarily have to be a blood relative to earn this title,
but simply embody the essence of a loving aunt towards not only her own family
but all members of the tribe, young and old and all in-between. One of the
Hawaiian women who most personifies this trait of care and love is the famous
Rell Sunn, “Queen of Makaha.” Rell was
more than only a surfing champion but a lifeguard and all around waterwoman
adept at all forms of ocean activity.
Rell also sponsored menehune surfing competitions to help impoverished
and troubled local keiki. Rell travelled
around the globe as a roving ambassador for surfing and Hawaiian aloha and when
she was later diagnosed with breast cancer she became a champion of that cause
as well. After her passing to the disease
in 1998, she continued to spread her love and influence with not only an
educational fund set up in her name but by inspiring so many who have come to
know her story. Her loving spirit
continues to bloom on this earth even though her body has passed on…
So I think that is the title, the role, I wish to
pursue. If I can’t be a mother, grandma,
wife, girlfriend, or any of that, I would not be displeased to become “Auntie
Mo” to not only those who are directly connected to my life but maybe through
deeds and actions I can spread my message of love and caring to all I encounter
in this life…maybe I can’t earn the level of esteem and reverence of someone
like Rell Sunn, but it is certainly a worthy aspiration I think…
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