Richard Ha writes:
Gloria Baraquio writes a column in the Hawaii Tribune-Herald, and last month she had a column called Auntie, Sistah, Bruddah or Cuz? It was about a conversation she had with friends about “the rules” –- when do you call someone Auntie, Sistah, Bruddah or Cuz? What’s the difference between Bruddah and Cuz? And more.
It reminded me of something that happened to me recently, and after her column appeared I sent Gloria this note:
Aloha Gloria,
I am 62 years old now. Six or seven years ago, when I was into serious power lifting, a kid I estimated to be 17 or 18 years old called me Uncle in the gym. As in, “Excuse me Uncle while I grab this dumbbell.”
“I not your uncle.” “No call me Uncle if you no can out lift me.” “If I’m your uncle then I should be able to slap your head.” I said all this to myself. I think there should be a rule that one cannot call another person in the gym Uncle.
That was 6 or 7 years ago. When it happened, my thinning hair stood up. But soon after that, I found the humor in the situation. I like to find any excuse to laugh.
A couple of weeks ago, a young guy maybe in his late 20s/early 30s was entering One Plus One Café with his wife and young child while June and I were leaving. He jumped forward, pulling the door open for us, and said in the most sincere, respectful way possible: “You go, Ta’ta.” I accepted in the most gracious way I knew how –- nodding, body language, “Thanks, eh.”
On the one hand it was so nice to see respect for traditional values. On the other hand, I’m a ta’ta. “Did you hear that, June? He called me ta’ta.” She laughed, knowing that I refuse to even accept senior citizen discounts.
Anyway, you know what I mean. I love your column.
Richard
I got a note back from her. It started,
“Hi Ta’ta. That’s HILARIOUS!”