Stop Walking On My Grass

I have come to the point in my life where I've had to surrender to being called "Sir." It seems innocuous because it's just a silly word but it's packed with implications. Sir is short for "you're old." Sir is also code for "you LOOK old" which, to be honest, is kinda worse.

Sir also implies that the halftime celebration of our life is over and our third quarters have begun. This reality can be hard to embrace but it's also full of new opportunities as our second half gives us a chance to correct some of the bad plays from our first half.

Thanks to my lovely wife, there is, a different perspective of being called Sir. It is a sign of respect from younger people who, through a simple three-letter word, are acknowledging that we have laid down a path on which they now walk. In my acceptance of the Sir title, I have had the kindest, most surprising things said to me by younger people who revealed how influential I've been to their journey even though I had idea that I was being observed from afar. As my mother often says, "You have no idea who's watching you." 

It can also not be understated the significance of being referred to as Sir in the context of the African American experience. After 400 years of being called "boy" or far worse, Sir becomes a much appreciated greeting. For those who say, "What's the big deal? It's just words.", I would refer them to the historic events of January 6. The flames of the insurrectionists hatred were lit and stoked by the words of their führer-in-chief Donald Trump. Words matter.

Learning to yield and partner with Sir or Ma'am is healthy and I now look at as if this little word has garnered me a few more stripes on my life's uniform. I am a battle-proven veteran and the young ones recognize that by calling me Sir or O.G. - look it up if you're not hip.

I know it's just a word and I'm still the same person who used to ride his bike ALL over town when I was a teenager. I also know I AM getting older and that comes with its own challenges so, in the scheme of things, this little word doesn't mean a whole hell of a lot. 

So in my mature, elegant embrace of my new status, go ahead, call me Sir. Now stop walking on my damn grass!

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