A Musing: What's in a Name?

I pride myself in being a professional. I have been working in my chosen field for 38+ years and I absolutely love what I do. Within my industry, I am respected.

Somewhere along the line - back about 20 years ago - I found that another persona began developing, one that had absolutely nothing to do with my chosen career but everything to do with being at the rink. Once in and around those hallowed halls, I ceased to be Allison Scott the PR pro; I became, "Jeremy's mom."

"Hey, Jeremy's mom! Could you help with Sally's skates?"

"Jeremy's mom can take you to school."

"Give it to Jeremy's mom. She'll take care of it."

Even going to competitions today, I find myself introducing this other persona as, "Hi I'm Allison - Jeremy's mom," as if my name were hyphenated.

Please do not misunderstand; I am very proud to be his mother. That is not the point. What I find amusing in all of this is the way it continues.

A few weeks ago, while I was at work, a family stopped me to ask directions to the World Figure Skating Hall of Fame and Museum which is located across the street from my place of employment. The young girl was a skater; the mom had been a skater and so had the aunt. Now, I don't know if it was my signature glasses (which I apparently can never change or I will fade into oblivion as a living, breathing person), or what cognitive light bulb went on in the middle of our conversation that caused them to step back and nearly in unison say, "Aren't you Jeremy's mom?"

"Why, yes, I am."
A flurry of cameras and photos ensued, along with a flurry of accolades in sentences that seemingly had no punctuation, and virtually no end.

Of course, I was flattered to be recognized and I encouraged the young skater to stay in the sport and work hard. But as I walked away, I had to muse: What would happen if someone walked up to our skater and said, "Aren't you Allison's son?"

Dream on..