Saturday, June 28, 2008

Hey, baby....

How does one measure a life? How much money did you make? How many things did you accumulate? What did you accomplish at work?

Of course not. We all have and know our own measures which are of a much more personal nature, that carry far more value for each of us. But let me submit one variant for your consideration and amusement: How many times, and by how many people, and in what contexts, were you called "baby"? This seems as good as any to me. And the more the better, from my perspective.

This is a wonderful word, so versatile. Of course it can be innocent, or sweet, or sexy, or loving in the most innocent way (as between and a parent and a child), and everything up to and including much more sultry, adult versions. I love them all.

I've been thinking about this concept a lot lately, and I'll share with you why. The ending line is going to be my new mantra in life.

The Voodoo Blues Band sessions on Sundays at Hammerstone's are, among other things, great jam sessions, when some of the top St. Louis blues performers come by to say hello, share a drink, share a story, have a laugh, and, of course, lay down the blues. Our sit-ins are much more than people who just show up; they become and remain our dear friends.

One such friend who comes by often is both a wonderful drummer and a singer. An older gent who has been on the blues scene for years and years. Played with everybody. He doesn't just play the blues, he lives it, breathes it, drinks it in--it simply oozes out of the pores of his skin. A few weeks ago, he showed up after what for him had been a relatively extended absence. We were all so so glad to see him again, play with him again, just hear him again. As he was leaving the stage from sitting in, I gave a him a big pat on the back, smiled and beamed, "Morris, you sounded great!!"

He stared back at me with an expression I don't quite know how to describe in words (sort of like "huh?") and after a small beat, gave me a response I don't think I'll ever forget as long as I live:

"Baby, I always sound great."

And without more he moved on to his cheeseburger and listened to the rest of the set.

Morris, yes you do. My new mantra. Feel free to share your baby stories with us.
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3 comments:

Barb Adams said...

My most recent "Babe" story happened this week - somewhat different than yours.

I spotted Steve's i-phone on the kitchen island at work on Friday, and picked it up. At once, the message on the screen, from someone named Suzanne, screamed out at me: "Hey, babe, what time are we meeting?"

I stared at the phone with a look of frozen horror for a split second, when Steve looked over and said, "That's not my phone - that's Kate's phone."

Relief and embarrassment . . .

June 29, 2008 at 10:23 AM
Emily Adams said...

Two things- after The Office episode "The Dinner Party." I cringe if Steve ever calls me Babe.

Also, as a young female, I do not appreciate being called Babe or Baby by a stranger or even an acquaintance. I find it diminutive and derogatory. Women are too often pressured to be younger, look younger, act younger.

However, as with most things, context is everything. I love your new mantra. And the phrase "Nobody puts Baby in a corner" :)

July 4, 2008 at 7:57 AM
Rob said...

Thanks for the comment, Emily.

It made me think of why I hate being called "Bob", especially by a stranger or relatively new acquaintence. They've seen my name written somewhere, and are attempting to be "familiar" with me. But what they are revealing is in fact that they don't know me at all. My negative reaction to being called "Bob" goes beyond all reason--I am NOT a Bob.

I know that's a little different than the point you are raising (because there is condescension and sexism built in to the situation you describe not included in mine), but it does have the component of false intimacy.

July 4, 2008 at 12:02 PM

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