We all have our given names and variations of that, I have been called Jimmy,jimbob, Jimbo, and of course James. I have had nicknames like little bucky, ribsy, which is an entire story on its own, in college some of my classmates took to calling me Doctor music because of my love of and my knowledge about music. At work, I get called the Old Man because I am obviously, the oldest one there. A close friend used to call me Casper because I tended to disappear at party’s and reappear out of nowhere. I have even taken to using the spelling Jimm because of a Guelph writer with the same name as me, I have tried using just my initials J.D. but it just did not seem right, but last week I think I acquired a new name courtesy of my Mother. Mom suffers from dementia and is confined to a nursing home because of her condition and her advancing years, she will be 91 in May, and as with anyone who has this awful disease it causes the victim to lose memory among other aspects of daily life and can put a strain on the victim and the family members who look after them. And our case is no different, Ma has lost the ability to walk and for a women who used to walk all over the streets of Hespeler I am sure it is frustrating to her and she tends to lash out at her visitors and her caretakers at Riverbend Place, but I must admit they do a fantastic job of keeping her healthy and safe which I guess is the most important thing now. But I digress, so where was I? On many of my visits Mom will want to hold my hand and she tends to smile but I know she is unaware of who I am and even why I am even there and we leave it at that, when she get’s tired of my visit she lets me know she is tired and want’s to have a nap and that is my cue to leave, what she does after I leave is anybody’s guess but she more than likely is happy to be left alone, but what does this have to do with names? Well, as always I was talking to Mom and asked her if she knew who I was, and I was expecting the usual blank stare and uneasy smile that I would normally get, but this time she said ” No, who are you?” and I replied, I am your son, she looked at me perplexed and just puckered her lips and gave me a big raspberry Phtt, yes I said, that is my name, she cracked a little smile, said I am tired,rolled over and went to sleep. So I guess my name is PHTT, I can live with that, as long as she is still around calling me that.