Let Me Call You Sweetheart

Let Me Call You Sweetheart

An elderly gentleman liked to brag about all the girlfriends he had in his younger days.  

I had so many girls chasing me that I had to sing, “Let me call you sweetheart, I forgot your name…” 

An old joke containing a wink at wisdom: you’d better know her name if you want to keep her.

         

Teachers use the sweetheart title a lot too. It’s tough to remember the name of every girl or boy who wants your attention. Sure, teachers remember the names of the students in our classes or grade level and the ones who passed through our little classroom community, but since every child in school knows your name, they expect you to know theirs too.

         

Names are important. Who can forget the weaver’s daughter who, having accepted the help of that strange little man who spun straw into gold, desperately tried to guess his name to keep him from taking her first born child? Luckily, she happened upon the name Rumplestiltskin and all was well. 

People like to hear their names. Using someone’s name establishes a connection. One summer, I helped direct a week of Junior High camp. Take a minute to think about that – raging hormones at loose in the wild woods.  

Thirty five young men and women who thought they had all the answers to life’s questions but had thousands of questions about life. The first thing we did was learn each camper’s name. We sat down and memorized the groups, then, as the campers checked in, we put a name with a face and practiced using it. Group leaders encouraged campers to learn each other’s names. We did; they did; and we had a great week taking home not just a list of addresses, but a list of friends.

         

When visiting nursing homes, I am always encouraged when I hear the staff addressing the residents by name. These folks feel respected and valuable when addressed as Mr. Smith or Mrs. Maxwell rather than honey or dear. Someone took the time to learn their name, what a great feeling.

I also like hearing politicians calling on reporters by name. A press conference becomes more of a conversation than an inquisition when journalists are Liz or Harry rather than just that fellow from The Times or that gal from CNN.  What business convention would be complete without the Hello, My name is ­_____ tags?   

         

Several summers ago, I worked teaching English to a group of Taiwanese students. Each had chosen an American name to use while here.   They knew that friends call each other by name and that their given names might be too hard for us to pronounce. Even though we had to guide one of the boys away from ‘Lillian’ to ‘Larry,’ those names remain dear to our hearts.

For those of us with hundreds of names to remember, ‘sweetheart’ comes in handy though. Each dear little face that passes us in the hall deserves a greeting, a compliment, a smile.

Sometimes, teachers answer a, Good Morning, Mrs. X, with Good Morning, sweetheart!   We try to add, Please tell me your name again; I have so many to remember and I don’t want to forget you.

Because teachers -- and all those who care about others -- also remember that after, Let me call you sweetheart comes, I’m in love with you.