It really depends on what name I’m being called at the moment. My family name is Slavic; my given name comes from a Chaplin in the Marines. Later I gained an adopted name, when all along I identified with my great-grandfather’s name. I’ve had the usual assortment of nicknames and variations on the theme, never really liked any of them enough to embrace it.
The name I was called most often was Seargent. I grew into it and embraced the spirit of the title until it became a name. It represented a master of my trade, skilled enough to lead and teach others. Over the years, I hope that I inspired others to strive for the same level of success and knowledge.
There comes a time when you have to take off the uniform and become someone else. That sloppy undisciplined someone you were before. Today I can tell where I know someone from by what they call me. Family and old friends dredge up nicknames I have heard or answered to for decades. Soldiers and cops dance between rank and Sir Name. New acquaintances are just confused.
Maybe someday I’ll figure out who I am.
Such a powerful journey—names shifting like uniforms, each carrying history, duty, and identity. Sergeant or otherwise, the spirit behind it shines through. 💫
Philo
LikeLiked by 2 people