I come from a large family and we always question who our mom loves the most. We’ll give her awful and bizarre circumstances that put two of us at the hands of her. She’ll have to save one and let the other perish, sort of like the ending to The Good Son, which is the second greatest Culkin movie other. If you don’t know the scene I am talking about, watch the ending to the movie and see which son she saves.
That is a huge weight to put on the shoulders of your mother. If my mother had to choose, I would hope she wouldn’t let me go. I mean, I am a pretty amazing kid. I have a vast database of corny jokes which are amaizing. Who else will she get to work on the crossword puzzle? No one. That’s right. Without me, she’ll never solve 21 across. But if my mother ever gets to the point of not wanting me as a son anymore I have a fall back plan. I have another person who will take me in and claim me as her own. This woman will be my new mom if the mother I have now decides to drop me like I dropped smoking and moved on like I was nothing but a passing phase, like the Harlem Shake.
Like all my stories, I was at work doing what I normally do. I am busy prepping food when another employee hollers for me to speak to a customer. This customer was demanding about speaking with me. I first thought that I may have pissed them off or they were wanting to vent and complain about something, not because there was an actual problem , but they just want to complain for the sheer fact of complaining. I walk up the lady and with a smile on my face I greet her and ask what she needs.
Her: Is your name Kirk?
Me: Yes.
Her: (sighs) Is it really!?
I look at my name tag and reassure her that my name is, in fact, Kirk. It’s been Kirk for 33 years. It hasn’t changed and even though 
some people have a hard time getting my name right, my name is still Kirk and will always be. I have complained countless times about my name to my mother but she still swears up and down that I wasn’t named after the leader of a starship that takes place in space. She claims that she “just liked the name”. There is no reason for me to doubt her. She is my mother and parents never lie to their kids about things, like Santa or the creepy and nightmarish, Easter Bunny. I take her word and believe that my name is just a name she liked.
I don’t hate my name. I have no beef with it. I have a beef with how people find it amusing to call me Captain, as if they were the first person to even make the connection and take some pride in feeling like they were the first person ever to drop that bombshell of hilarity on to me. I guess we all have nicknames we rather not be called. Imagine if your name was Luke or Leia. I am sure you’ll be ridiculed with Star Wars jokes all the time but if my name was Luke, hell, if my name was Leia, I would be happy someone took the time to ask me about my father and the Empire. I am a Star Wars guy. I don’t hate Star Trek. I just find it boring compared to the more, elaborate and action packed storyline of Darth Vader and his two kids.
I went off topic there. But the name thing still bothers me. I don’t like being called the c-word and I am sure if your name was Kirk too, you’ll be grinding your teeth and clenching your fist, fighting off the urges to slug the poor sap who called you it. I am sorry if I am coming across as a violent person. I can tell you that I am not a violent person. I am a kind-hearted soul and if I had written this post a week ago, I could have flaunted and bragged about never being in a fight but that would be lying. Nothing like being involved in a bar fight…but that folks is a story for another day.
Back to the lady and the point of this post. We are talking about my name. She has a son. Her son’s name is also Kirk. She was just tickled pink that my name was Kirk. She was telling me that her son, Kirk believes he is the only Kirk in the whole world. While I do agree with him to an extent, I know I am not the only Kirk alive. We have Kirk Gibson the baseball player. We have Kirk Douglas and he’s an actor. Another actor but now he is better known for his hatred towards Non-Christians. That Kirk is Kirk Cameron. I don’t know them personally. I have only known one other Kirk and I met him in second grade. We weren’t friends but I can bet we bonded over our name. What are the odds of having two boys named Kirk in the same class?
The lady talked about him and promised to return with a gift. It was a little weird to have someone I just met and will never meet again tell me they’ll be returning with a gift that is made and meant just for me. I feared and thought for a while about the item she was going to return with. What item could be so important that I should have it? What item is sitting idle at her home that wasn’t meant for her or her family but for me and only me? What could she possibly have that she swears will bring a smile and joy to my life? Why does she assume that my life is joyless? We just met. I am not your son. I am my mother’s son. I am the son who didn’t go down the escalator and in not going down the moving staircase, it left a permanent scar on my mother’s knee. A sad reminder that her son is a wuss when it comes to moving staircases. Another fear I can put in the book. Another reason my mother could possibly disown me or let me drop if I and other sibling were stuck in same dilemma from the movie, The Good Son.
I am frying up some fish. My back is to the counter and I didn’t see the lady standing there. An employee calls me up to the counter and rejoices that the lady from earlier is back with a bag full of goodies. I do hope it something normal. She is talking about her son to me. She is telling me about Kirk and how he will never believe her that she met me. She wanted to prove to me as well that her son was real. I wasn’t and never did I doubt her ability to have kids and at no time in our previous conversation did I object the silly idea of her having a son with the same name as me. She has a large, unmarked white bag in her hands. She pulls out a baby photo of her son. She smiles and tilts it, giving me and other onlookers a better look at her son with the same name as me. Next, she pulls out some arts and crafts of something she made. It’s a stitching of his birthday, weight, and name. It was further proof that her son was real. If the photo wasn’t enough and the arts and crafts of his birth didn’t prove to me that her son was also named Kirk, then nothing will.
She pulled one last item from her bag. She asked me to close my eyes. Sort of weird but okay. I guess I can do that. I close my eyes and when I am told to, I open my eyes. It’s a mug from Big Bear Lake. I have never been there and chances are I never will. But the mug was a nice gesture. It even has my name on it. Her son didn’t care for it. I did though. I always get excited when I see my name on a shirt, a mug, or a gift shop license plate.
I thanked her for the mug. She and I walked away and talked more. She said she’ll have to bring her son into the store to meet me. She is determined to prove her son wrong that as much as he wants to believe it, he isn’t the only Kirk on this planet. Aside from feeling like I may get adopted by this lady and take the place of her son with the same name, I got a mug out of the deal. Pretty cool I think. It’s my work mug. It’s my coffee mug at work and I like coffee but I have to wonder if the other Kirk likes coffee? Do all Kirk’s like coffee or am I the only one?
pitweston
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