Honorifics

In many social circles, my Dad was called Doc. The title was earned twice, but mostly the moniker paid respect to the fact that he was probably one of the cleverer of folks you could choose to be around.

His Dad was called Farmer. That was a bit of a question mark, since he taught agriculture. Sort of an inverse mode of address, a la Tiny in gangster movies.  Anyway when we’d walk to town together to get the mail, folks would wave and say “Hey, Farmer!”.   

Mom’s father was just called Pop. Seemed to be universal, but he never used any honorifics for anyone. You were either Bud or Sister.  Few words that man.

I tend to feel out of place if someone calls me mister or any of the other likely honorifics. I like either my given name or a functional role name in the context of the affair. So, I get it if there is an action in progress; it is important to have a chain of decision making.  I still answer to Bud though.   A lot of that is just taking the piss. But nothing really matters unless you answer to it.  

Then there is the sort of sarcastic honorific meant to intimidate. I used to get those calls on Sunday nights from mothers of failing college students. They’d pile on the titles in a vain attempt to cover a situation with confusion. It is a toddler’s tactic. Not unlike that which a few politicians practice.

You don’t have to call me “darling”, darling. But you never even call be by my name.