Johnny He's a Joker

Johnny He's a Joker

Just talked to daughter Ashley. She said that, last night “Johnny (age 6) asked Eddie (age 9), ‘Ed do I have money in the bank to go to college?’”

Ed said, “I don’t know – where do you want to go?”

John's answer: “Clown College.”

Eddie was in one of his mature moods. Other moods as they relate to little brother are "torment mood" and "ignore mood."  Mature mood, I also think of as sweet and loving.

Ed: “OK, that - probably yes.”

John: “Actually I don’t want to go there – I want to go to Brown.”

The family, with various roots in Rhode Island, once toured the Brown campus. Emma, 12 maintains that she and cousin Anna are going there. Go for it is all I can say.

Ed: “That’s a big difference.

John: "Why?"

Ed: "Brown costs a lot.”

John: “Can I get a scholarship?”

Ed: “No.” Practical Ed here.

John: “If I practice?”

Ed: “Practice what?”

John: “Basketball.”

Ed: “You better practice a lot.” Realistic Ed.

John: “When Papa comes home I’ll practice 5 hours every day.”

Ed: “ You've got to be smart too.” 

John: “I’m smart.”

I think it ended there, but the part I liked best was “When Papa comes home … ” I was visiting daughter Brett in California when this conversation took place. Happy that they had not forgotten me.

And I was also impressed with Ed's thoughtfulness. 

Senior Lead Foot

 Senior Lead Foot

It’s early, on a Saturday morning; the first week of February in Southern California. We’re looking for Interstate 405 leading to San Diego.

I’m the designated driver for daughter and granddaughter. Our destination is a girls’ soccer tournament, ages 10-11. It's called the State Cup. The title, I’m told, is a bit of an overstatement as the implication that the winner is State Champion or best in California is – well – not.

Interstate 405, in these parts, is called The 405. That highway language applies to all of CA as far as I know. Not true however in the rest of the country. Take route 78 going east to west through northern New Jersey. Spoken CA style it would be, take The 78.

Weird.

At age 73, I travel somewhat slow by CA freeway standards. Cars wiz by us as I roll onto the 405. Daughter Brett, age 43, gives me a look. Consequently, I apply a bit of the "old" lead foot – teenage-like. Before long I am up to speed, though not winning any races.

Our conversation keeps pace. I urge Brett to get a Master’s in Nursing (She’s a RN with a Bachelor’s). The usual caveats: time and money. Change of subject, Brett remarks about a funny episode on the “Ellen Show.” Girl in mall deadpans to old guy the spoken lyrics of “We’re never, ever getting back together.” The bemused old guy says, "Do I know you?"

Ha. Ha.

Next topic: Grandson Mike’s telling of his teacher popping popcorn as a demo of volcano pressure. When teacher offers all students a taste, he brags,“No butter or salt,” then warns, “Both those things will kill you.”
 OK.
Another teacher anecdote: Teacher's neighbor had their car battery stolen from their driveway and thieves left an apologetic note along with four Lakers tickets as compensation. That's LA Lakers - basketball.
Got it.
Neighbors, disturbed but, somewhat happy about the trade-off, went to the game. Seats were great.
Really?
When they got home, as Mike (age 12) tells it, “Whole house gone!!!” 

We laugh out loud at Mike’s rendition, especially his sweeping arms and the words, “Whole house gone!” Meaning everything stolen. For miles afterward I randomly go into hysterics at 65 MPH, laughing so hard that my eyes shut. Each time I fight to get a grip. Every so often Brett simply repeats, "Whole house gone!" waving her arms, and my hysteria is triggered again. This goes on for the remainder of the trip.

Moving on, we pass Camp Pendleton which leads to comments about war and anti-war. Change of subject.

A few more route changes and we arrive at our destination – Marriott.

At the front desk Brett says, “I forgot the confirmation email.”  

The clerk says, “No problem.” She looks for my name.

"Edward?" he says.

Miracle, I think.

Annie disappears into a stairwell, racing off with friends. I hear someone say, “Let’s play hotel tag,” and I think “State Hotel Tag Champs.”

 For sure.