“Collin and Maggie”
ROOFTOP – Didn’t I tell you those acorns pack a wallop when they hit the roof? That is one loud pop. I hope at least one of you gets hit on the noggin, so we can find out how painful it is. You did sign a waiver before climbing up, didn't you? I’m pretty sure you did.
Just be glad they’re not pecans. Kay’s brother, Tracy, has a pecan tree in his backyard, and that thing is loaded. If one of those bubbas lands on your head, it’ll stun you.
I discovered the impact of a pecan while celebrating Thanksgiving this year at Tracy’s house in Pasadena. We went to Tracy’s because the Hayters chose not to have a gathering this year. I think we were all waiting for someone to volunteer to host the festivities this year, but no one did. Traditions take a kick in the teeth sometimes.
There was a small group at Tracy’s house. Just Tracy’s friends, Ed and Brenda, and a couple of their kids and grandkids. I don’t believe I’ve ever introduced you to Ed. That guy is so much like Kay’s dad (Uncle Ray) that I just smile every time I see him. Things just start looking better when Ed walks up.
Thanksgiving went well. Good eats, plenty of sharing, no fights, no football outside, no roughhousing. I had trouble believing it was Thanksgiving. My most memorable time was with Collin, one of the grandkids. I’d never met the kid. He’s in Kindergarten, and has a better vocabulary than I had in the fourth grade. He’d say stuff like, “No, thank you. I don’t really like the corn. It’s not normal.”
Collin was right, by the way. The corn was a casserole with sour cream and cream cheese and some other stuff in it. It’s my favorite corn product, but there is no question about its lack of normalness.
After the meal, I was relaxing in the backyard all alone except for Collin who was standing three feet away from me trying to get the attention of Tracy’s dog. Maggie was across the yard barking at something on the other side of the redwood fence. May have been a lizard or a leaf. You can never tell with Maggie.
Instead of running over and getting Maggie’s attention, Collin stood there right next to me and began yelling. “Maggie! Maggie! Hey, Maggie! Over here, Maggie…”
One might surmise that a dog that will not pay attention to you when you keep yelling at him, is either deaf or not into chasing stuff. As smart as Collins is, he couldn't figure that out. He just kept yelling.
The Mark of a decade or two back, would’ve picked up Collin and Maggie and chunked ‘em over the fence. It was the only cure for my eye twitches and shaking. I chose not to do that this time. I inhaled slowly and deeply while saying a short prayer. All the while --
“Maggie! Here, Maggie! Maggie! Come here, girl. Maggie!” I calmly said, “Collin, how do you like your Kindergarten teacher?” he stopped yelling and looked over at me as if I had just told him to take off his left shoe and throw it on the roof. He said, “She’s nice. I like her fine.”
Then he turned to yell, but quickly looked back at me and said, “What’s the dog’s name?” I foolishly said, “Maggie.” That kid reminded me of me.
He said, “Right. -- Maggie! Maggie! Over here, Maggie…” Before our time in the backyard was over, Collin and I let Maggie chase the ball all over the place. We would even throw the ball on the roof and Maggie would catch it before it hit the ground.
All the while, Collin kept warning me not to step in the dog “poop.” A couple of times he saved my life. He could really spot dog stuff. Unfortunately, he was so worried about me that he ended up with stuff on both shoes. I took ‘em off and cleaned ‘em with the hose, then with a bucket of soapy water, and finally with Tracy’s toothbrush. (At least that’s what I told him.)
Before we knew it, the day was over. It caught my attention after Tracy said, “Are y’all still here?” The end of any gathering is the pits, ‘cause you’ve got to clean up and then load up. After that, I usually have to chase Kay down and drag her to the car. Kay is not one to go gentle into that good night.
Before we managed to leave, Collen walked up to Kay to give her a hug and then he said, “Where’s Mark? I need to tell him goodbye.”
About that time I came in the front door after making my last trip to the car. Collin walked up to me and held out his arms, so I stooped down and hugged him. In the middle of the hug, he caught me off guard by saying, “I love you. Do you think we can have Thanksgiving together again next year?”
It is such a blessing when a youngster enjoys the company of an old guy like me. I didn’t even give him anything, he just enjoyed being around me. Maybe I would’ve made a good grandfather. A dad? Not so sure. I know Kay would’ve been a great Mom. A lot of patience that girl.
Oh, and she’s a great cook. Makes the best corn casserole in the world. And, at this very moment she’s in the kitchen doing something with asparagus. – I guess that means, it’s time for me to say, “Are y’all still here?” – Next time.
end
mark@rooftopwriter.com and www.irlonestar.com/mac/
 |
| Collin |
ROOFTOP – Didn’t I tell you those acorns pack a wallop when they hit the roof? That is one loud pop. I hope at least one of you gets hit on the noggin, so we can find out how painful it is. You did sign a waiver before climbing up, didn't you? I’m pretty sure you did.
Just be glad they’re not pecans. Kay’s brother, Tracy, has a pecan tree in his backyard, and that thing is loaded. If one of those bubbas lands on your head, it’ll stun you.
I discovered the impact of a pecan while celebrating Thanksgiving this year at Tracy’s house in Pasadena. We went to Tracy’s because the Hayters chose not to have a gathering this year. I think we were all waiting for someone to volunteer to host the festivities this year, but no one did. Traditions take a kick in the teeth sometimes.
There was a small group at Tracy’s house. Just Tracy’s friends, Ed and Brenda, and a couple of their kids and grandkids. I don’t believe I’ve ever introduced you to Ed. That guy is so much like Kay’s dad (Uncle Ray) that I just smile every time I see him. Things just start looking better when Ed walks up.
Thanksgiving went well. Good eats, plenty of sharing, no fights, no football outside, no roughhousing. I had trouble believing it was Thanksgiving. My most memorable time was with Collin, one of the grandkids. I’d never met the kid. He’s in Kindergarten, and has a better vocabulary than I had in the fourth grade. He’d say stuff like, “No, thank you. I don’t really like the corn. It’s not normal.”
Collin was right, by the way. The corn was a casserole with sour cream and cream cheese and some other stuff in it. It’s my favorite corn product, but there is no question about its lack of normalness.
After the meal, I was relaxing in the backyard all alone except for Collin who was standing three feet away from me trying to get the attention of Tracy’s dog. Maggie was across the yard barking at something on the other side of the redwood fence. May have been a lizard or a leaf. You can never tell with Maggie.
Instead of running over and getting Maggie’s attention, Collin stood there right next to me and began yelling. “Maggie! Maggie! Hey, Maggie! Over here, Maggie…”
One might surmise that a dog that will not pay attention to you when you keep yelling at him, is either deaf or not into chasing stuff. As smart as Collins is, he couldn't figure that out. He just kept yelling.
The Mark of a decade or two back, would’ve picked up Collin and Maggie and chunked ‘em over the fence. It was the only cure for my eye twitches and shaking. I chose not to do that this time. I inhaled slowly and deeply while saying a short prayer. All the while --
“Maggie! Here, Maggie! Maggie! Come here, girl. Maggie!” I calmly said, “Collin, how do you like your Kindergarten teacher?” he stopped yelling and looked over at me as if I had just told him to take off his left shoe and throw it on the roof. He said, “She’s nice. I like her fine.”
Then he turned to yell, but quickly looked back at me and said, “What’s the dog’s name?” I foolishly said, “Maggie.” That kid reminded me of me.
He said, “Right. -- Maggie! Maggie! Over here, Maggie…” Before our time in the backyard was over, Collin and I let Maggie chase the ball all over the place. We would even throw the ball on the roof and Maggie would catch it before it hit the ground.
All the while, Collin kept warning me not to step in the dog “poop.” A couple of times he saved my life. He could really spot dog stuff. Unfortunately, he was so worried about me that he ended up with stuff on both shoes. I took ‘em off and cleaned ‘em with the hose, then with a bucket of soapy water, and finally with Tracy’s toothbrush. (At least that’s what I told him.)
Before we knew it, the day was over. It caught my attention after Tracy said, “Are y’all still here?” The end of any gathering is the pits, ‘cause you’ve got to clean up and then load up. After that, I usually have to chase Kay down and drag her to the car. Kay is not one to go gentle into that good night.
Before we managed to leave, Collen walked up to Kay to give her a hug and then he said, “Where’s Mark? I need to tell him goodbye.”
About that time I came in the front door after making my last trip to the car. Collin walked up to me and held out his arms, so I stooped down and hugged him. In the middle of the hug, he caught me off guard by saying, “I love you. Do you think we can have Thanksgiving together again next year?”
It is such a blessing when a youngster enjoys the company of an old guy like me. I didn’t even give him anything, he just enjoyed being around me. Maybe I would’ve made a good grandfather. A dad? Not so sure. I know Kay would’ve been a great Mom. A lot of patience that girl.
Oh, and she’s a great cook. Makes the best corn casserole in the world. And, at this very moment she’s in the kitchen doing something with asparagus. – I guess that means, it’s time for me to say, “Are y’all still here?” – Next time.
end
mark@rooftopwriter.com and www.irlonestar.com/mac/
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