My son Jake was watching me upload 150 pictures from our trip to the park earlier today when he had what I call a true A-ha moment. A certain look registered on his face and with a certainty in his voice he proclaims “I think you should be a photographist!”

I remember this usage before – the “ist” suffix in an effort to create a job title. So my mind zaps backwards through a rolodex of memories and out pops a card from 20 years ago.

It’s my living room in Staten Island – all decked out in 80s chic: off-white, satiny wallpaper, dog-stained, brown (my mother calls them taupe – fancy Seaman’s talk) leather couches. My sister is watching TV under the plaid wool blanket brought over from Russia just 9 years ago. I am somehow located at the ironing board but this seems odd since I really do not know how to iron. I can only assume I was using it as a place to put my food.

Now here’s where it gets funny – or ironic. Or at least somehow nostalgic.

I was saying something that had my sister laughing. I do not recall a single thing from what I was saying. What I remember is my sister rolling on the couch laughing her Reena woodpecker laugh.

So between the laughing Reena bursts out “You should be a comedist!”

And here’s the ironic part. I cannot remember what this supposed comedist was saying that had Reena laughing so hard. I only remember that hers is the funny that I remember 20 years later.

These two with their career predictions …