Of course these days, no matter what it is, it only needs to say it is not a bear, re-pronoun itself, and then it can be whatever it wants… even if what it wants is to be a female swimmer (or so says Simone).

I recall hearing a few years ago that the Giant Panda was finally reclassified as a bear. Up until 1980 or so it had been classified as a raccoon, so it could be that the Koala is right after all, and is not a bear, but is actually a possum? But more so I find it intriguing that it even cares if it’s a bear? I mean what else would it want to be? Certainly it does not want to be a man! Ugh. Or even a woman... not even if it can outswim one.

I heard where something like 80% of women surveyed said that if they were alone in the woods they would feel safer coming across a bear than a man. Those women must think the bear they came across would be a Koala, mustn't they? I mean, the average man would certainly be better to come across than would a Polar, or a Grizzly Bear? Good grief, the average man in the wild would not even notice she was there anyways, and would continue playing his video game right up until supper time. And if she didn’t feel like cooking (which she likely would not these days) he would be ok with Door-Dash, while a proper bear who was not a Koala would probably be less willing to wait on it’s supper, if you know what I mean? Just my thoughts on the matter.

Perhaps the Koala doesn’t want to be a bear because it is embarrased by the, “does a bear shit in the woods” question? I know I am, every time some beary dumb person repeats it.

Say, which bear is it that hibernates while standing on its head? Oh yea, Yoga Bear!

I know, I know. Sorry about that one.

Y’all do like a Polar Bear and stay cool, you hear!

Challenge

The Koala whispers, ‘I am not a bear, thanks.’

Misnomers

Tamaracian

Excuse Me, Sir

My Pavlovian response was activated once it registered the teenaged clerk’s up-sale question of, “Will there be anything else, Sir?” Since I had experienced this rote, non-confrontational pleasantry and accompanying misnomer during previous retail interactions, my somewhat passive-aggressive correction of “‘Sir’? Is my father behind me?” was locked and loaded.

However, this time, unlike other encounters, I suppressed the interjection of my rebuttal to this random person’s innocent attempt of pigeonholing me into a respected status that I wasn’t ready or willing to occupy. Restraining the urge to pretend I was not an elder, I politely said, “No, this is all for today.”

And like that, there was no more fight left in me, no more will to hold onto what I use to be. It was a good run, but the charade is over. (I noticed liver spots punctuating my hands while fumbling to remove the credit card from my wallet. When did these appear?) With a sigh, I understood that old is my new normal.

Acceptance is important for making peace. But acceptance requires letting go of the past. And letting go of the past, both the negative and the positive aspects, is difficult. It’s difficult but necessary because without acceptance you can’t deal with the reality of who you’ve become.

So, I’ve stopped thinking of “Sir” as a misnomer. I consider it a badge of honor and utilize the associated benefits to their fullest. Now get off my lawn and turn down that noise you call music.