My phone rings and it’s the same voice. Her greeting is always the same,”Hello Mr. Wilford. There is something mystical, intriguing, challenging, and even inspiring about it, even though it is my name. I mean it’s deeper than just calling my name. I thought it would be good if you take a trip with me through my thoughts and see what I come up with. Please put on your seatbelt as we look into my mind and what’s in a name.
She don’t call me Big Poppa. This sound more like an expensive financial responsibility that I am not in a position to manage. Seeing that I have only one picture that comes to mind of a Big Poppa, I am not him. Heavy breathing, expensive sweaters, and wearing dark shades indoors, offer no inspiration for your boy. I can neither handle the health hazard nor the expense of being somebody’s Big Poppa. I’m glad she don’t call me Big Poppa.
She don’t call me Papi. Somehow being called Papi(Poppi) with a SPANISH accent, as charming and enticing as it is, seems to only appeal to my inner superman who is assumed to be faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, and able leap tall buildings in a single bound. It also carries with it the uncanny realization that I will at some point be in debt or dead by the time the lights, (in my house or my heart) come on. I must be getting older. In aging reality of Men, the weapons of our warfare eventually fire to the likes of Ricochet Rabbit’s sidekick, Droop-a-long. The locomotive ain’t barreling down the track at the same speed, and leaping tall buildings is out of the question. In short, I’m glad she don’t call me Papi!! Gone with that!!
She don’t call me Bae, but I like it.
Bae I assume, is what we call a “term of endearment.” Unlike Papi, Bae is packed with power to endure and excitement. When “Papi” will get you a hungry beast in the bedroom, “Bae” will make him go out and build a skyscraper, hunt down a Dinosaur, and bring home the bacon. A man called “Bae” will shovel the whole block and grow cabbage overnight. Papi will get work in the bed, but Bae will get a bed built. Nevertheless, I don’t get called Bae yet, but I understand it. I hope you do. I have my “Bae-blockers”on right now. People will trick you if you aren’t careful. She don’t call me Bae, but she calls me Mr. Wilford.
She calls me Mister.
Mister is important to me because it says, “I DON’T and will NEVER know you well enough to excuse me or you from operating outside of our God appointed PURPOSE and without RESPECT.
When I hear Mister, it seems to be a reawakening to responsibility, manhood, and my rightful place in the bigger scheme of life. Mr. Wilford or Mister reminds me that my name carries weight, not just uptown, but everywhere that it may be spoken. Mister recalls and reclaims my soul to return to its purpose, calling, and expectation. Mister not only DEMANDS respect but also GIVES respect.
You may LOVE it when she calls you Big Poppa, It may drive you crazy when she calls you Papi, It may even take you to another level when she calls you Bae, but for right now?
I love it when she calls me Mister.