Friday, August 15, 2025
I gave up my music career. It was strange because after I left academia, I felt naked. It felt like giving up a real solidity – Dr. Hebert, the music academic, organist, choral director. What’s underneath that title?
Life does that. One moment you’re married, completely identified with that name calling, and the next, you’re divorced, single, and uncomfortable with a new name. One of the strangest transitions I ever went through was being “middle aged.” I was always the youngest person in the room. No longer wear that one. Now I’m “over the hill.” HELLO, MY NAME IS OVER THE HILL.
We name ourselves. “Disabled.” I recently became “dog owner.” What about the label “dead?” Someday, someone will call you dead. I like label-less, motherless child, or wayfaring stranger. I’m a divorced, middle-aged guy with no income, no future, and not sure what to do next. Maybe I’ll be a broke, couch-surfing drifter.
As I reflect on labels, I realize I’ve given myself many. Some have slipped off, leaving me feeling “exposed,” yet another label. Never been “dad” before. Never will, but I never thought I’d be divorced, or bald, or income-less. Or middle aged, or the Morning Motivator, or a drifter. But why call myself any of that?
The one who writes on this blog everyday, Ryan, is a label, and when I don’t affix that to a storyline, a job, a history, or a relationship status, I wonder who “he” is. It’s even weird to refer to yourself in the second person! A label, once removed.
Without calling me something, you might wonder if I were real. Go to a meet and greet and the first thing they’ll do is slap a name tag on ya. Suddenly, we “know” you.
Who do you say that I am? You name it. I’m not sure anymore. Hello, my name is _________.