In good hands

In the mail today I got a box of homemade buttery chololate chip cookies from my cousin Kat in Virginia. It is a wonderful gift for a whacked out boy on a trip down the rabbit hole.

These last couple of weeks Buddy has been coming home with fresh roses for me. He knows how I like roses and feeling as helpless as the rest of us in this house, he's found a way that makes us both feel better and brighten up the house.

I am bouyed with cards and well wishes and gestures of kindness.

When you lay down with dogs...

Last week I was a bit worried about the chemo treatments for a very unusual reason. I was hearing rumors that one needs to be more cautious around your pets. That I might pick up infectious dirt from my furry loved one while my white cell count couldn't fight off caninus infectius. 

This is troubling not only because we have dogs in our face all the time, 3 to be exact, but they are boistrous, demanding and one in particular is my sweet Bunnie.

Now, to say Bunnie is close to me is like saying fish are close to water or corn is close to the cob. We feed off each other. It's disgusting. I'm not insinuating that she eats at the table or wears clothes or gets treated like a little human - no, she's a dog. But, we do spend some quality time hanging out.

For instance, she sleeps next to me. Not just on the bed but right up lying beside me, her head practically on the pillow and my hand on her belly. By the time I go to bed, being an insomniac, Tish has been asleep for hours so she's still on one side, I'm in the middle and Bunnie takes up the other side.

You can see how it could be difficult to change that routine after years of practice because I need to keep the dogs at a distance. So I asked the doctors about it, admitting my folly and they both said: "do they scratch or bite?" No. "Then don't worry about it. I doubt you're going to get heartworm or distemper from the dog. We don't transmit disease from the animals."

That was a relief. All the same, I'll give her a bath and try to keep her from rolling in her own poop.

A week away can make a world of difference

All three boys are going away tomorrow morning for the week to stay with their other G-poppa. They're looking forward to it, a little anxious because it is still a fairly new house down on the cape but excited all the same. This is going to be a tough week for me starting chemo and it's better that they aren't here for any number of reasons. When they get back we'll understand a lot more about what to expect and how to mesh them into the new routine.

One thing that I've learned while preparing for this treatment is that there are no standard predictions of what side effects anyone can expect. They all contradict each other: may gain or lose weight; could have diarrhea or constipation; eat dairy and sugar - avoid dairy and sugar, etc, right down the line. It's like they can't make up their mind. Why? Because we all react differently and so there really is no way of knowing until after the fact.

I think the same is true of our emotional reactions, especially with the kids. They really don't know how to react until there is something to react to. So far it's all tests and hypothosis. Cynical as this sounds, I suppose seeing me pale faced over a puke bowl would be something to work with. But much of it will be more subtle than that.

So after they've had a nice break from here, a chance to see their mom and aunt and granddad, we'll have the first round over and done with and will be better able to predict what the coming weeks will bring

The wicked step(grand)mother?

One of the big changes around here with my being relegated to an observer role in family life is that Tish will be taking charge of discipline and order around this zoo. If the boys thought I was a taskmaster, wait til they get a load a ol' Grammo.

I worked hard getting Tio to take his responsibilities seriously, I've been pushing like crazy for Doc to stop lying, and made deals to get Kit to behave better with his dad. In each of these situations (and more) it's always been a fluid negotiation - a little carrot, a bit of stick, some backpedalling, and a few reboots. Through it all we move forward one lurch at a time - slower than I'd like, but not so much that it can't be measured.

Grammo has no such patience and while taking care of me through chemo she'll have even less. She won't be playing the loving soccer mom, she won't let me do it, and Buddy either isn't around or can't get organized enough to be relied on consistently. She won't mind if they don't get rides to sports, dances or the park, isn't concerned if they have any computer, TV or other privileges, couldn't care less if they have friends over or go on sleepovers. If they want anything, they'll have to earn it.

I've told them to get prepared. But I think it's only this week that they are starting to get an inkling of what it means. Tio lost a week's worth of computer time for not taking out the trash and she's showing some sharp teeth to Kit on school mornings when he decides to make a fuss over nothing.

They come to me for help but I'm not going to intervene. We've made their lives pretty good for the past two years. I guess it's time for them to step up and show us what they've learned. If they are too stupid or lazy to live up to the expectations they've been taught, then they'll face some harsh reality.

Personally, I think it's a good thing. At ages 11 and 13 let's see if they want to be treated like little boys or respected like young men.

You Pedal, I'll Steer (part 13)

I guess Alec's plot to blow Eric up didn't work out so well, and it didn't help get us any closer to Dad's permission to go to the bike race. But there was still time. In the meantime, there was plenty to do...

CHAPTER 19

Friday was the day of our pet show. Finally! A day I actually wanted to going to school. I’d practiced the magic trick with Gully before school. It worked every time. Like real magic. I could hardly wait to show the class.
I thought I was going to be the antsy one all morning but the whole class was out of control. By lunchtime Mr. Pratt was so mad I thought he’d call the whole thing off. He even yelled at the girls, telling everyone to sit down and shut up. When the lunch bell finally went off we scrambled out of there so fast to run home and get our pets.
Gully was waiting by the door. He knew we were going somewhere. I split a cheese and pickle sandwich with him. Then I made sure I had a stick of gum in my pocket and we sailed off the porch and back to school like we’d always gone together. He jumped around like crazy  pulling me so hard along the sidewalk I had to run else I’d fall over.
This was great! We were going to win this show. I just knew it.
In the schoolyard all the kids were buzzing about the fifth grade pet show. All the other kids were jealous and gathered in clumps around the dogs and other animals. Gully got plenty of attention, too. He ate it up and licked everyone’s face.
I played it cool like I did this every day. “His name is Gulliver and he only answers to me,” I explained as I kept moving with Gully tugging me along so hard he choked.
“What kind of dog is he?”
“Can I pet him?”
“I have guppy.”
I didn’t see Payson or Dozer or Puny. Too bad. I wanted to introduce them to the business end of my dog.
From right inside the front doors, I could hear barking and yelling and laughing down the halls. Before we went up to class, I kneeled down in front of Gully. His tongue was hanging a couple of feet out and he kept looking around like he was ready for some fun.
“Okay, Revillug.” I said, petting his head. “Let’s really show them what we got. This is my one chance to prove I’m not a nobody. Okay?”
He lapped my face but I don’t think he was paying attention.
The classroom was a zoo. There were big and little dogs, cats, birds and even a couple of fish. Everyone was yowling and shouting at their pets. Some were brushing their animals and a couple of kids were chasing each other around the room. The only one I recognized was Dinah’s dog, Luger, a white mutt with a black eye patch. There was even a St. Bernard. Too cool.
A cat ran between my legs and Gully took off across two desks after it. Mr. Pratt stood in the middle yelling orders. No one listened. That made me smile.
Luger attacking Gully and the whole thing turned into a huge fight. Everyone screamed and grabbed their pets. I tried to snatch Gully’s leash but it whipped around like a snake. Dinah finally got hold of Luger’s neck and we tore them apart.
A second later a gym whistle blew right in my ear. Everyone shut up.
Mr. Pratt said, “I might have known it was your dog, John.”
I might have known he’d blame me, I felt like saying. I noticed he didn’t say anything to Dinah about Luger.
“Just take your seat and keep control of that....dog.”
I yanked Gully to my seat.
Pratt blew the whistle again. “If we can have a little order, I want you all to get your pets up and sitting quietly,” he looked at me. “on top of your desks.”
There was a lot scuffling and ordering around and laughing. It wasn’t so easy getting all the dogs to jump up on a desk. I couldn’t get Gully to do it. I had to lift him up and he jumped down a bunch of times before he finally stayed.
When the class was sort of quiet Mr. Pratt said, “We’ll go around the room now so you can introduce your pet.”
Everybody told their pet’s names and what kind of animal it was. It was a lot of fun. We saw everything. Kevin had a parrot, there were a couple of budgies and a John Payson had a canary. The cats were all kind of scared and stayed in their cages. I didn’t blame them with so many dogs in the room.
Gully barked through the whole thing. Luger did, too. I tried holding his nose closed but he wiggled free and kept barking. Dinah kept saying shush to Luger. We looked helplessly at each other when Pratt kept telling us to control our dogs. I sure was glad my dog wasn’t the only one that wouldn’t shut up.
Debbie told us about her Siamese cat, 99. Donald Pleasant showed off his brown Pekinese dog, Belle. She had a big red bow around her neck and wasn’t any bigger than Debbie’s cat. All the girls oohed and aahed over Belle. When my turn came I said Gulliver was Polish Pointer. Pratt said there was no such breed.
What did he know?
When the talent show began each kid took his pet to the front to perform a trick. One of the cats walked on their hind legs trying catch a stuffed mouse. A couple of dogs rolled over or barked on command. John Payson’s canary sat on his finger while he fed it a seed. 99 did tricks with a yo-yo. No one had a magic trick like mine.
Donald got up with Belle. We were all sunk. He got down on all fours and crawled along the floor while Belle walked across his back. Then, still sitting on him, she put her paws up to beg. The whole class cheered. No way anybody could top that.
Gully didn’t even get a chance. Someone slammed his tail between two desks. He let out a yelp and jumped straight for Luger. Dinah lost hold of her leash and they both started fighting again. The whole place went wild. All the dogs got loose and a couple of birds.
Mr. Pratt blamed it all on me. He screeched like a crow and his face got all blotchy and purple. “That dog shouldn’t be allowed out in public. It’s a disgrace to this show.” He pointed at the door. “Send it home.”
“Ha, ha, Lunn,” said someone. Other kids laughed.
I yanked Gulliver out of the dog show and down the hall.
I stomped down the steps and out the boys door. I was steaming mad. Gully had ruined it. Ruined my chance to win best dog. Ruined any chance that Debbie Bell would ever like me. Or anyone else.
“Go home!” I told him. “I don’t know why you did this to me. I never treated you mean.”
He looked up at me, panting happily like he’d had the best day of his life. I took him out to the edge of the school yard and left him there. I wished I could go home with him. I really didn’t want to go back inside.
Upstairs, Mr. Pratt was getting everyone ready to take the dogs for a walk in Glen Stewart Park. I felt so stupid about sending Gulliver home that I wished they’d leave me behind. I’d gladly take a detention. But the kids that didn’t have dogs were all going. So I had to.
“Nice trick, Chipmunk,” Dozer Faraday laughed. “Can you teach me to make a dog disappear like that?”
“Ha. Ha,” I said, trying to look like it didn’t bother me. “How about we all disappear when we go to sixth grade and you flunk out again?”
His lids got low and mean and he smacked my shoulder. It hurt. It was worth it.
When everyone was ready, Pratt led the way downstairs and out the girl’s door. As I got to the door I could hear Pratt screeching orders, dogs barking, and kids yelling. Served him right.
When I got out, I saw why. Gulliver was jumping up on everyone! As soon as he saw me his whole rear wagged he was so happy.
“Gully! Here boy!” I called, “How did you get here? You were supposed to go home!” I stole a look at Mr. Pratt. Purple was creeping up his neck and his eyes were popping out more than usual. I grabbed Gully’s collar and waited to see what would happen next.
After looking around at everyone he stared me down and choked out, “You keep control of that mongrel while we’re on this walk.”
“Yes, sir.” I said. “He’ll be fine. He behaves better outside.”
He was better than fine. It was a great walk. I forgot my leash in the classroom so Gully ran loose the whole time. Out in the park, he got soaked in the stream, sprayed everyone with water, bit John Payson on the leg, growled at anyone that tried to bother me, and had another fight with Luger. I kept ordering him to ‘come’ and ‘stop’ and said he was a bad dog. He didn’t pay any attention. He got all the dogs barking and fighting with each and even had Dozer scared.
Mr. Pratt yelled at us until he couldn’t talk. He was so mad! But what was I supposed to do? When we got back to school, he sent me home early with my dog and I missed the rest of the pet show.
I gave Gully a really big lump of cheese when we got home. I didn’t impress Debbie, or win any prizes, but ruining old Pratt’s day and seeing Payson and Dozer running for their lives was worth it.
I didn’t even mind that Alec got grounded because two more cigarettes blew up in Eric’s face. Alec said it served Eric right for being too stupid to throw the pack away after the first one. For me, it meant the bike race was off. One less thing to go wrong.
By the time I went to bed, I was worried. Half of me was still smiling about what Gully did but the rest of me knew I was dead on Monday. The Payson gang would kill me as soon as I showed up. Worms never sleep. And what about Mr. Pratt? He’d blame me for everything and treat me worse. My life was over.
“Alec? You still awake?”
“Present and accounted for.”
“Can I tell you about a secret what happened to me last Saturday?”
He got up and climbed up into my bunk. “I knew something was wrong. What’s up?”
Lying in the dark on my back, I spilled it all. Told him about going to the graveyard, meeting Payson and Dozer, then walking all the way home. “Add that on to the stuff that’s gone on all week, I think I’m still cursed.”
“No, you’re not cursed.” He paused. “Listen I got a confession. Promise you won’t get mad?”
“Mad? About what?”
“Just promise.”
“Okay. I promise.”
He didn’t talk for a bit. Then he said, “I made all that stuff up about the curse.”
I rolled on my side to face him. “What do you mean? What stuff?”
“The whole thing. About Miss Hatten eating her kids or burying them. I made up the junk about breathing the deaders, too. I was just teasing. But when you to took it so serious I didn’t tell you it was a joke.”
I wasn’t sure I got it. “You telling me I’ve been spooked about that crazy old lady for nothing? You kept telling me I had to go there.”
“I didn’t think you really would.” He laughed a little. “You got to admit, I had you going, right?”
I wasn’t laughing. I felt more stupid that Dozer could ever be. How could I fall for something as lame as that? Now he’d tell everyone what I did and I’d never live it down. After weeks of living in terror, I end up being the butt of his joke.
“Go away!” I snapped and pushed him so hard he fell off the bunk and crashed into a pile of junk on the floor below.
“Ow!”
“You okay?” I asked.
“No. I could have got seriously injured falling from up there.”
“Good.”
“Boys!” called a deep Dad voice from thin air. “If you don’t go to sleep, I’ll come up there and personally put your lights out!”
Moaning and griping, Alec crunched and stumbled back into bed.
“Goodnight, Dad.”
“Goodnight. Dad.” CHAPTER 20

Saturday morning was drizzly. Alec didn’t talk much. Neither did I. We were both half asleep and buried in our own thoughts. I was still fuming about what he did to me. If I hadn’t bought everything he said about that stupid curse things would be going much better. How could he betray me like that? I know he’s a tease sometimes, but still...
After we got our bundles he told me to meet him back there when I was done. “Don’t waste any time daydreaming. Just deliver your papers and be here.”
He didn’t need to tell me. I didn’t feel like daydreaming anyway. When I got back to Queen Street, I was surprised to see him waiting with the Tidely-Idley.
“For the record, John, I’m sorry,” he said sheepishly, “I didn’t mean for you to get hurt or really make a trip all the way out to Woodbine. I thought you’d see I was joking and when you didn’t...well, I shouldn’t have kept it up.”
It was nice that he apologized but I was still in a mess. “Okay.”
“Are we still friends?”
“Are you kidding? Of course!”
We shook on it. I felt better.
“Good. Now get on. We have a long ride.”
Not good. “Where are we going?” I asked. “Are we running away from home?”
“Don’t be stupid. We’re going downtown on our own to win that race.”
“You mean we’re going to sneak away?” I looked up at the dark clouds and wet roads. “You want to ride downtown now? Are you serious? It’s not even eight o’clock.”
“Right. Traffic is light. See?” He waved a hand around at the empty street. Then he pointed towards downtown.“We stay on Queen and follow the tracks to Yonge, just like when we take the streetcar.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No.” He was dead serious. Ouch. “Once we win the race everything will be fine. Dad won’t be mad and you’ll be a hero in your class.”
“After that pet show? I doubt it.”
“Sure. Pratt will have new respect for you.”
I shook my head. “He’d flunk me even if I won the Olympics.”
Alec grinned wickedly. “He won’t have a choice. You’ll be a winner all over the city. Our picture will be in all the papers, people will praise our invention.”
“Don’t be too sure.” Half of me wanted to go. The big half said it was crazy.
“Debbie Bell will fall for you.” The pig knew just where to hit me. “You’re so strong and creative,” he said in a high girl’s voice. “How did you ever think up that wonderful bike and then have the courage to ride it all the way downtown to win that race?” He clasped his hands beside his head and batted his eyes.
“You’re bad.” I said and slugged his shoulder.
“You know I’m right.”
Maybe this was the cure. What did I know? If I was famous all over the city, maybe she would notice me and the bullies would leave me alone. Yeah, right. And maybe there really is a Santa Claus. Well...there were tooth fairies.
His eyes got all serious and he said, “Don’t worry about the bullies. I owe you that. They won’t bother you again - ever. No matter if you go today or not.”
“Really? How can you do that?”
“Are you kidding? What do you think having three big brothers are for? If Jeff gets a whiff of you getting pushed around, try and stop him from introducing those rats to a two by four.”
“He’d do that?”
Alec got on and held her steady. “So will I. Come on. What do you say? Time’s a wastin’.”
I don’t know why he could talk me into anything. But he could. I knew we’d catch big trouble over this. I didn’t know what the right thing to do was anymore. All the choices were bad. I climbed into the cockpit.
We wobbled to a start, then quickly picked up speed. The storefronts whizzed by and we were halfway to Woodbine before we knew what was happening. We must have looked pretty strange. A couple of kids crammed on a strange two seater bike barreling along as fast as the cars. I thought we were going too fast. But at this speed Alec was right about one thing: we’d be downtown before we knew it.
A couple of traffic lights later and I had no idea where we were. I kept my eyes on the road and nothing else. We bombed along dodging potholes and cars. It was fun. Way down low like that, I could almost touch the street. The wind whistled up my nose and made my eyes water. I didn’t care. Just keeping my mind on driving was full time work. No time to be scared. It was like the world around us completely disappeared leaving just me and Alec and the machine. If we could go this fast when we got to the race we’d win for sure.
Way up ahead a green light was coming up fast.
“Lay to,” Alec said.
I thought we were already at top speed but Alec poured it on. The Tidely took off like we just fired rocket boosters. I was Buzz Aldrin blasting off into orbit in the Gemini. Wow! I could barely keep the front wheel straight. At this speed we’d be orbiting the Earth before breakfast. ‘T minus five seconds for separation...’
“Look out!” he screamed and we started skidding.
I heard screeching tires and felt a blinding pain in my side. Me and the bike got tossed like a bull had butted us into the air. The mess landed with a dull crunch on hard cement. My bones were on fire and I couldn’t see anything.

I've been nominated as a best grandparent blog. How cool is that?

Hey Everyone,

I've been nominated  by about.com as a top 5 finalist in their Readers' Choice for Best Grandparent Blog. Pretty funky, huh?

If you'd like to vote in this prestigious contests, please click on this link to: vote-for-favorite-grandparent-blog

You can find out about all 5 of the great blogs nominees by taking this ride: Favorite-Grandparent-Blog-2012  At the end of the last blog description ( or click on page 6 anytime) you can follow the link tovote. Of course, you can always come back here and click the link above that takes you straight to the voting.

I'd love to have your support so please click on over and cast a vote.

Thanks,
 Grampy

Black humor

I made up a joke to tell a friend on Facebook. Maybe it's a bit too grim...


A cancer patient and an alcoholic walk into a bar. The bartend says, "Name your poison, friends."

"Gimme a chemo I.V. and plunge it straight into my heart, will ya," says the cancer victim.

"Geez," says the alcoholic, "I don't think he was being literal, man." He turns to the bartender and says, "Just give me a beer."

BaDUM bum!

Hello? Is this thing on?

Waiting for doomsday

We spent the weekend gutting out and rearranging my upstairs spare room so I can have a quiet place to hang out while I go through months of chemo. Furniture got rearranged, bookshelves erected and filled with all my cartoon art, we put part of the sectional sofa up there. Everyone helped out.

In fact, we're all as ready for this thing to begin as any family could be. The boys understand the down side as well as the optimism. They are asking how I'm feeling and what they can do. Even Doc wants to get over his persistent cough before I get my first dose. Friends and family are prepared to take kids when needed, cook meals, and help out. My mom and brother are traveling 300 miles to visit this weekend - primarily because I think mom needs to physically prove to herself that I'm still here and can get through this thing.

Now it seems we're just waiting for next week when the hospital will pump me full of 6 hours worth of poison. Like waiting for a storm to break, we don't know how bad it will be but we'll weather whatever comes. It feels like we're waiting for black Christmas. No presents, no tree, no mistletoe but lively anticipation for a date certain.

I just want to get on with it. But when you're facing the devil, maybe you shouldn't be so eager.

It's offical...he's now a real teenager

Tio went to the movies today with a group of friends. I ended up being in town when it ended so I dropped by the theater to see who needed a ride home. The gang of six was gathered in the lobby. Tio ran back to get his coat and I tried to find out how they were getting home and if I could help. They looked like a herd of deer caught in the headlights. Not one of them would say a word. I knew the two boys well enough and said hello to no avail. One of them stood with his skinny hand around his skinny girlfriend, their mouths gaping like I'd just offered to run them over with my car. This was a boy who is usually so talkative that you forget he's only 13. Not a word.

"Hello?" I said, "We all speak English here don't we? Can one of you say something?"
A couple of gutteral murmurs croaked out. Nothing coherent.

Tio returned, looked at his shuffling companions, dropped his eyes and joined in like he was suddenly possessed by a zombie. He, too, would not answer me. Finally, he mumbled that they were okay and everyone had a ride. So I left.

While starting the car, Tio ran up and got in. He needed a ride home. He found his voice and all was normal again. Thank god the pod people released him back to me. It would have been tragic if we'd lost him forever.

It occured to me that he just came down with a raging case "Teenage Parental Embarrassment Syndrome" in front of his friends - the girls in particular. I am no longer cool to him, I'm now a liability. Oh, he'll be happy to take rides from me, borrow money, talk to me in a normal way when we're in private (he made a bundle of weak excuses for himself later) and hope I'll cheer for him in the bleachers. But just do it out of sight, will you, Gramps?

I'd been through it when his father hit his teens, but forgot how suddenly it strikes. First, I lost most of my IQ in his eyes about a year ago, now I'm a pariah if seen anywhere near his friends. The syndrome will fade with age and so doesn't need treatment. I'll return to being a normal human in about 5 years.

I can only hope that he behaves like one sooner than that.

Buddy takes the wheel

This morning I awoke to the mellifluous sounds of Kit and Buddy shouting over a shirt that was inappropriate for school. Kit insisted he didn’t have another one. Buddy, rather than argue that point as he might have done in the past, simply told him to remove it or take consequences tonight - period. I got up a half hour later and the offending garment was on the kitchen table. Score one for Buddy had- he held his ground. Usually Kit could run Buddy ragged on this kind of thing and get away with it. That didn’t happen. Dad didn’t take the bait and Kit did as he was told. That’s a big step and worthy of note.

The fact that it took a screaming half an hour is another story. I didn’t get my usual 4 hours of sleep before the kids get ready for school today because I had a bone marrow extraction scheduled and listening to a screeching fight at 7 a.m. was not an upbeat way to start a tense and sure to be painful day. My usual response to Kit for such behavior would be to an early bedtime, no Facebook, not going to a dance, or some such punishment designed to make him think twice the next time he and dad go at it. But I decided to stay out of it. As I posted yesterday, since I’ll be taking a back seat for the next few months, they need to start sorting things for themselves. Noisy as it was, this was a start in the right direction.

What I did say early this evening was that we need every ounce of positive energy to get through this illness and it would be a huge help if he could put the arguing aside and cooperate a bit more - even if he believed he was in the right.

I’m asking him for help, for a favor, during tough times, just as I have of Tio. I hope they can step up to the task.

The tidal shift is coming. Will we be ready?

At Tio’s counseling session yesterday we talked about the changes my going through cancer treatment would have on our family and him in particular. We’re fixing up the last ‘spare’ room in the house for my convalescence so that I can be upstairs and stay out of the mainstream of hubbub around the house. Everyone feels it will be less disruptive than my being in the middle of things where Grammo would have to shoo noisy kids off and I’d need to be extra careful to keep my distance from germs and so forth.

But will it? It will certainly be less disruptive for me. But the family in general? I don’t know. The counselor pointed out that since I’ve been the main caregiver for the past two years, kept the peace, smoothed problems, made the big decisions and moved the family forward, removing me suddenly from that role will leave a big hole in the organization. And, as Thoreau said so aptly, nature abhors a vacuum.

Buddy, and his relationship with the kids right now, is better than ever before but I still run a fair amount of interference. The kids still have serious unresolved trust and anger issues so when he’s in charge the moods swing from brat to wurst. They’ll smell his hesitations and pounce on his weak spots like hyenas on wounded prey. Emotions will run high while they vie for his attention. Grammo is stronger but her patience these days is shorter than mine. Add on to that the fact that she’s worried sick about me, and they’re in for a rude awakening. There’ll be a new sheriff in town.

We talked about what that will mean to Tio but I don’t think it’s sunk in yet. He knows it’s time for him to do a bit of fast growing up so he can pitch in and help make life a bit easier and better around the house for everyone. If he can’t manage that, though, and behaves like the other boys (quarreling and demanding), he’ll get treated accordingly and that will only make things harder.

I don’t know if the new regime will be better or worse - but it will certainly be different and should make for some interesting blog entries.

Growing up takes work

I cut Tio's apron strings. For the past 2 years I've watched him closely, monitored, steered and pushed him to cooperate, do better at school, and get along with his brothers. The results, as I've reported in this blog, have been mixed. All the while he has insisted that he can do what's asked and expected even when there is evidence to the contrary.

Well, now is his chance to prove it. I'm not going to look over his shoulder this term. Not check his homework, not watch his back when he's out. Not monitor his activities. In other words see if he really can show responsibility and maturity without any eyes on him.

It seems the time is right. Not only because I'm going to be otherwise occupied with an illness but also because he's moving on towards 14 years old and needs to find his way. He needs to succeed or fail on his own terms in some things.

Personally, I'm rooting for him. I know he's a great kid and can meet the challenge. But he'll have to work at it because it won't happen on it's own.

You Pedal, I'll Steer (part 12)

Just when things were tight while Alec and John were trying to talk Dad into letting them go to the bike race, a firecracker went off on the 3rd floor. It was one of Alec's, planted in Eric's cigarette! There was no time to waste...

CHAPTER 18
There was barely time to snatch a breath before Eric was pounding down the stairs headed our way. Alec panicked. Instead of going for the tunnels like we practiced, he tried to make the stairs. Eric was right there. So he ran straight down the hall to the back of the house. The floors shook with tromping feet, yelling voices, and Gulliver snapping at their heels. I ducked into Kate’s room and we watched them run the circuit from our parent’s bedroom, down the hall, through Mom’s sewing room, and back through the bedroom. Alec better do something. Eric was catching up!
“The tunnels!” I yelled out.
 Dad’s voice boomed up the stairs. “What in blazes is going on up there!”
 Eric paused. It gave Alec the split second he needed.
“The tunnel!” I yelled again.
In a wild panic he skated past us and dived face first like a ferret down a hole. Eric followed him in and barely missed grabbing Alec’s foot. The plan was working beautifully.
Eric’s eyes darted around the room figuring his next move. Come on, I thought, go after him.
But instead of crawling in, he jerked the mattress and bed springs right off the frame. They flew across the room. There was Alec pressed against the wall, crawling along on all fours like a soldier in a shallow trench trying to avoid enemy fire. He was concentrating so hard it took him a second to notice that his roof got blown off.
The bed hit the dresser and the whole place exploded in a crash of smashing furniture. Eric lifted Alec into the air by his shirt. A look of amazement flash across Alec’s face like he couldn’t believe he didn’t think of this.
He tried to laugh. “Hey! Let go! It was only a joke!”
POW! Eric’s fist bopped him on the nose and it started to bleed. Alec screamed while Eric asked how funny it was now.
I couldn’t look. I retreated back into Kate’s room and sat on the bed with her. We both felt sick. Jeff watched the action from the doorway.
“I wish they wouldn’t fight all the time,” she grumbled. “Why can’t they just be nice to each other?”
“At least this time it isn’t me,” Jeff said. He and Eric got rough, too. One time they tumbled down the stairs and broke the banisters.
Finally, Dad was on the scene. Eric and Alec yelled and screamed and complained. Dad said for both of them to shut up. He sent Eric away and told Alec to clean up the mess.
Eric stomped off and slammed the front door on his way out. All was quiet. I took a peek. Alec was sitting on the floor with his head back and his eyes closed. The room was a disaster zone. It looked like a bomb went off under the bed and blew the mattress right off. The bedsprings were teetering against the frame with the mattress underneath.
“How did it go?” I asked in a whisper.
He gave me a dirty look. “Next time, I’ll wire the springs onto the bed,” he said.
Dad came back in with a wet washcloth and started to wipe the running blood from Alec’s face. Without the blood, it didn’t look too bad.
“What is it with you two?” Dad asked. He sounded much calmer. “As far as I can see, there’s no reason for you and Eric to fight.”
“He didn’t have to hit me,” Alec whined. “All I did was--”
“I heard what you did and it sounds like you deserved it.” Dad wiped hard enough to make Alec wince. “Firecrackers in cigarettes are dangerous. You should know better. Now clean up this mess and the two of you get into bed. No more nonsense tonight.”
The springs were really heavy and hard to get back in place. Eric was super strong. I put the sheets and blankets back on while I wondered if Alec would admit that there were other firecrackers or take a beating for every one that exploded in Eric’s face. When we were all done I asked him if it hurt much. He flashed a mouthful of braces smile under a bright purple nose with Kleenex sticking out of it and said, “I wish I could have seen it go off.”
That answered my question.
“It’s not fair,” he said. “We can’t go to the race this weekend, and Eric gets away with smashing my face. Nobody cares. It would serve everyone right if we just ran away.”
“Huh?”
“Wouldn’t it be great to just get on the bike and ride off for keeps? That would teach them all right. They’d miss us but it would be too late.” He sounded half serious.
“Where would we go?”
“William’s, of course,” he replied like I should have known. “We could ride out the County and live with him.”
I lay in the dark thinking about that. I didn’t want to run away. William’s parents made me nervous. I was thinking maybe we should forget the whole thing. Maybe it would be better if we just did what Dad wanted.
Out of the dark, I heard Alec mutter through his stuffed up nose, “I wonder if Eric will still talk to Dad for us?”

A chance to see where we all really live

I’m going to step out of Grampy mode and play astronomer tonight to share something cool for anyone living in the northern hemisphere. We have an opportunity to 6 out of the total 8 planets every night this month (I’m speaking in a ‘post-Pluto’ world here) all without a telescope or binoculars.

3 planets at dusk

On any clear night this month, if you go out during the hour just after dusk and look to the west, you can’t miss a huge bright “star”. I mean really huge. So huge that many people mistake it for a UFO. That’s the planet Venus (our nearest neighbor), and just further up in the sky, almost as bright, is the planet Jupiter. You can’t miss either of these two beautiful planets. As a bonus, but a little bit trickier to spot, is Mercury. To see it as well (in the same view as Venus and Jupiter) you need to have an unobstructed western horizon and be there just after the sun goes down, because it will follow the sun quickly out of sight. Scan the west for a small star that is almost in a straight line down from Jupiter and Venus. That’s 3 planets in one open sky! (To see all 3 you need to wait another week for Mercury to make its appearance.)

To see Mars and Saturn, you need to be up before dawn. Enthusiasts set your alarms, insomniacs step out after 3 am, and early risers get out there before your coffee or the sun has a chance to dim your view. Look towards the southern horizon, but still fairly high in the sky. You won’t be able to miss a bright red object - Mars, our other closest planet. Let your eyes go down towards the horizon where you will see 2 stars side by side that are about the same brightness. The one further east (on your left) is the ringed planet Saturn!

2 more planets for the same price!

That’s our almost the entire solar system in one night. Amazing. Even for the not so hot on astronomy folks in the crowd, that’s gotta mean something. It’s like seeing 5 continents in one day, a phenomenon in its own right. I hope you get a chance to see them all.

Okay, I mentioned seeing 6 planets in one night. Can anyone name the sixth and tell where it is?

My pseudo "mother-in-law"

I have a detractor, an un-fan, someone who disagrees with everything I say - like a mother-in-law who can't stand you simply by virtue that you married their child. She doesn't like me because she perceives me as a bad influence on the kids. She belittles anything I do with the kids. It's gotten so bad that I simply delete any comment she sends to the blog without even reading it. Like any vituperative 'mother-in-law' who has nothing positive to say there is no point in even opening the email.

Does she have a point? Let's look at how the boys have done living here. When they arrived here they were anxious, unsure of their future and security and living in apalling circumstances. Doc at age 4.5 was still in diapers and could hardly speak coherently. Kit lived inside a rage. Now they are healthy, content, and becoming self assured. Their school grades are honors. They are developing social maturity. There is no risk of them being moved from one place to another on a whim, suddenly finding themselves uprooted at a moment's notice, among irresponsible adults with serious subtance abuse issues. All three of these kids get daily help with homework, extracurricular activities and socialization, learn to better get along with each other, and have unshakable trust at home.

What more can anyone do? I've given over my life to them and now, it appears, that may be literally true. I have a 1 in 5 chance that I will be dead in 3 years from cancer. It may even be as high as 2 in 5. During this unsure time I still intend to make sure the boys are safe, working hard at school, growing up, and loved unconditionally.

You would think that she could cut me just a little slack and not be such a mother-in-law.

Patience is a virtue

I think my patience with the boys is wearing a bit thin around the edges like an oriental rug that’s been walked over so many times you can’t tell what the original colors were. It's still there, it’s just not as vivid or fresh as it used to be. My voice gets a bit sharper, my fuse burns a bit shorter, and my expectations are higher.

We’re solidly into our third year as a crowded little household and things have settled into many familiar patterns. Expectations for some things are high (school grades, manners, safety...) and  lower for others (picking up after themselves, some coarse language we can’t seem to extinguish...). For example, one thing I find less patience for is their constant fighting with each other. I know, I know, it’s part of sibling life. I didn’t say it’s not normal or expected, I’m just saying I have less and less patience for it.

Getting them to show more independence is another. I’ve worked hard with the older boys to develop more independence and maturity, which they sometimes struggle with. I know you can’t rush personal growth but at times, it happens at its own pace for each person, but I sometimes get exasperated at the backwards steps they take.

Now we are  suddenly faced with a new wrinkle - a major illness that will create change, demand attention of its own, and force the kids to pitch in a lot more. There are so many variables here that it’s impossible to know how each of them will react and respond to the change in routine, being more housebound because I can't take them places, how emotionally available Tish and I will be for them, how much patience I will have left over at the end of the day, and on and on. In short it will change everything for all of us. Talk about a wrench in the works of an already fragile machine.

I wrote a few weeks ago about my surgeries changing the family dynamic and how we all coped. But that was only on a short term basis. This is huge compared to that and will have a major impact now and possibly for years to come. I can’t allow myself to be come too introspect from my own condition and lose sight of the family’s health.

Of course, how can I say it’s not about me when I’m the one with the disease? It’s this kind of paradox that contributes to my loss of patience and makes me realize that we are headed for a waterfall without any paddle. I can juggle a lot of things in life, find solutions to many problems and handle big changes. But in this I'm completely in the dark because everyone deals with illness so differently.

What comes next might try the patience of Job.

Don't try to reason with a six year old

A while ago Doc got an MP3 player and something went wrong with it. He was convinced there was some way to reset it if we looked at the instructions that came with it but Buddy and I were sure that his technical difficulties were caused by him swinging it around by the earphones and smashing it into the ground too many times to count. Computer chips don't respond well to violence but try explaining that to a six year old. He insisted that we needed to find the manual and look up the part that explained why it wouldn't work.

So, Buddy diligently started searching for the paperwork. The kitchen, the office, the mess in the livingroom. He was about apologize to the boy for not having put it in a safe place when I took him aside and said 'big mistake'.

"He'll hound us to the gates of hell for this thing, convinced it is the only way." I said while I shuffled through the papers on my desk and found an old Fedex waybill. "He can't read and he doesn't really care. Tell him this is the owners manual and it tells you to do a diagnosic of the thing on your laptop through the USB port. Then show him some computer message that says 'permanent failure due to impact'."

Buddy followed my instructions. Doc was satisfied, if disappointed, and admitted that maybe he had been a bit rough. So he moved righto on to something new without skipping a beat: harping endlessly about Daddy buying him another one.

Resistance is futile.

A preemptive strike

I met the oncologist yesterday and got the news. Not very good, not catastrophic. I'm now headed for some serious chemotherapy with all the risks, sickness and hope that it holds.

So today I cut off most of my hair, shaved off my beard as a preemptive strike to take charge of this monster and, man, do I look different. I left the moustache, figuring the chemo would have to peel that off along with the remaining tufts up top. I did it on a whim to what's going on.

No one in the house knew about it until they got home. The kids have never seen me without a beard. The response was kind enough. A lot of 'Grampy you sure look different.' But no complaints. Doc didn't say a word.

It also opened the door to talk about what is coming next. Both Tio and Kit listened without many questions but there will be time for that. When we discussed it weeks ago it was still an if, now it's definite. I hear more curiosity than fear in their voices and I hope that in the end they have nothing to fear. I will talk with Doc on an 'as needs' basis rather than fill him full of potentially frightening images.

Friends have generously offered their help, Buddy and Sugar are pitching in, I've been reading the pamphlets on what to expect, and we're all ready to put our backs to this stone. I am blessed to have such a strong family and good friends.

I guess I'm as ready to face this disaster as I ever will be. So bring it on.

You can't have it both ways

As both my readers know, Kit decided he was a self professed gay boy last spring. It worked for him at the time because he can be outrageous in his clothing choices and has serious sexual identity issues that he simply can't hide. It also worked for him because it got lots of attention.

Well, that last bit seems to have cooled off some this year and he's not so happy. As parents we're thrilled to know that he has been accepted by his school peers as he is: skinny jeans, pierced ear, bracelets, teen mags, handbag and all. But he isn't.

He likes to create "dramma", as he spells it, and just being 'out there' isn't enough anymore. So he's raised the stakes by getting upset when someone reacts to his flamboyant behavior. He'll take exception to being called gay and teased for liking boys even though he dresses like, runs like, behaves like, and prefers the company of, girls and wears a bracelet that says "I-heart-boys" for all to see.

"Sorry, Kit,"I say, "if you say you're going to wear a band that says you like boys, you can't get insulted if someone says you like boys. That's like swearing that you like chocolate and getting angry when someone says you like chocolate. Either you like boys or you don't. If you do, own it. Tell them you don't care. If you do care, then stop wearing the blaring bracelet that says you do like it. You can't play both sides."

He believes he can. He tells me he doesn't like boys. But if I say I'll take the bracelet away it reduces him to tears - not an easy thing to do with him. So I tell him if he insists on wearing it to stand up and say "yeah, this is who I am! What of it?" he won't do that, either.

Unfortunately, this isn't just a bullied kid with an identity crisis. He's doing half the bullying. He lets it get under his skin and then gives back as good as he gets, or even initiates trouble. The school is not happy. We're not happy. He's not happy.

So how to resolve this? Someone has to take a firm stand and that gets to be me. I told him last night, "You are either going to start letting these responses roll off your back by saying 'so what' and walking away from trouble or I am dressing you in nothing sloppy jeans, boxers, and skater shirts so no one can tell you apart from every other boy in that school and you can kiss your girl attitude goodbye."

I guess it's his move.

Decisions are made by those who show up

I did a bit of the usual bouncing around today. Had a doctor appointment, post office, picked up kids, made supper. You know, the usual. I got everyone seated around a meatloaf, left them in Grammo's care, and hustled out the door to the annual school meeting.

Here in New England we still have a visceral connection with our democracy. The voters all gather for a town hall meeting where the school board puts forward a budget and several other articles for a direct vote. It gives the townsfolk an opportunity to speak directly to the issues, state their approval or concerns, and even make changes to each and every item brought before the town. While the process has been watered down a bit in the past 10 years, it still remains an important function of how we stay connected and in control of both our town and school system.

There were only 4 articles to approve on tonights warrant, the third being the biggest - a $17+ million school district budget. As a taxpayer I want to know that our money is responsibly spent, and as a g-parent raising kids in all 3 of the town schools, I doubly want to know that the funds are well allocated.

I got there 10 minutes late - just in time to hear the school board chairman briefly describing the main budget article - and settled in to listen to the usual lively discussion and Q&A from the public. I barely found the page in my book when the moderator made a final call for comments. No one spoke! Not a peep. They moved on to the next agenda item without one of the 50 or so people there raising their hand. Which doesn't even speak to the hundreds who didn't even show up.

I used to sit on the other side of that table as an elected town offical who helped prepare a budget and even though the numbers gets poured over for months by 2 committees under public scrutiny, I never got through town meeting without a spirited debate from the public. But those times seem to have faded and here we were passing a sprawling budget with huge impact on our kids and the future of our school (and tax rate) and no one asked a question or made their views known.

All the voters in town will have a chance to vote it up or down next month. Most without knowing at all what their money is being spent on. They say decisions are made by those who show up. Well, from towns and schools and state legislatures all the way up to Congress and the presidency, it's time we all started showing up and raising our voices to understand each other in this democracy. In times as hard as these with so many difficult political and social issues to solve in our country just showing up to vote isn't enough.

Black tights and tall boots (Observations from The Big Apple)

It's midafternoon and I'm on my way home from New York City after a 24 hour rush business trip. I'd hoped to stay a few days and go to the opera, listen to some jazz, eat good food (ah, to escape from burgers and fries for just one day!) and...you know, do all the things that Manhattan has to offer. But, "what with hell and transmigration" as Archy so aptly put it, I had to cut things short and stick to business.

Landing in Grand Central Station I think about a great scene in the movie The Fisher King where Robin Williams follows his true love around the clock and he's so oblivious to everyone else they appear to be walzing around him. It's beautiful.

I am always amazed at just how many people one can pack into a city. A constant river of souls all flowing by, bubbling around corners and in and out of buildings. I love the strong ethnic mix in the New York crowds, too. People from all over the world sharing their distinct look, style and demeanor. What I hadn't really noticed before was the symphony of languages that pervade the air. Maybe I simply wasn't tuned into in the past but everywhere was a mix of European, Asian, and Carribbean voices with the wash of English.

I found time to play the tourist for one thing only: skating at Rockefeller Center. Since I started skating again, I always thought that would be fun. My mom told me about my great grandfather, who was a figure skater, teaching my older brothers to skate there when I was a baby. I was surprised at how small the rink is. I suppose my imagination had blown it up in size. Last night were the usual skating crowd of amateurs and beginners and a couple of really good performers that were a pleasure to watch. Now, I'm not a good skater but I know my way around a piece of ice. Even so, this was my first skate of the winter and I took it slow. All I could rent were figure skates and one of the toe picks caught on the ice and I tumbled face first like I was flying over a barrel, my arms stretched out like Superman taking off, and landed on my flat on my belly. Ouch - did that hurt. On my way down I could hear gasps and laughs from the onlookers. What an embarrassment. No injury except a banged knee and bruised ego. I haven't fallen like that since I was a kid. I bet some enterprising soul fired it straight up to YouTube titled 'yutzes who shouldn't be allowed on skates'.

This morning, I limped to Grand Central early so I could find some souvenirs for the boys. I was totally amazed that there wasn't one place selling I-heart-NY T shirts, hats, statues of liberty or anything of that kitsch in the whole station and surrounding blocks! I had to really hunt and even then, pickin's was slim. At least I got some exercise and I know they'll like what I did find. Hey- who doesn't like donuts :0)

I guess I'll have to go back again for the opera.

You Pedal, I'll Steer (part 11)

John and Alec are in big trouble! They were so busy testing the new bike they got home late for supper. That wasn't going to put Dad in a good mood to let them enter the race...


CHAPTER 16

My mind went completely blank. “I don’t know,” I said.
“We were down at Mike’s Bikes getting our two seater welded,” Alec explained. All the cheeriness had drained from his voice. So had the colour from his cheeks. “It’s out back.”
“I want to know why you missed dinner,” Dad demanded. I looked at the table. Corned beef and home fries – again. That made three nights in a row. I wasn’t sorry to miss that.
“After the bike was fixed, we practiced down on the boardwalk. I guess we forgot the time.” It was a good thing Alec could talk because my vocal cords had scampered down my throat and were hiding in my empty stomach. “We needed to practice because the race is on Saturday,” he added.
“What race?” Eric asked, stirring it up. “You guys enter a race we don’t know about?”
“Yeah,” Alec’s voice picked up like this was a life raft to grab. “Me and John built this bike to race on Centre Island this weekend. Want to see it?”
Dad pushed his plate away. We stood frozen for a hundred years, waiting. “Wash up and get some dinner off the stove. We’ll talk about this after.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I want to check out this bike,” Jeff said. “May I be excused?”
Dad nodded. There was a scramble for the door. I stumbled towards the kitchen.
I came back in with dripping hands and a plate of cold hash. Alec had split, too, leaving me standing alone with Dad. He sat leaning forward, both elbows on the table, a cigarette pinched between a couple of fingers and a long stream of smoke coming out of his nose. “You entered that race on the island this weekend?”
Alec made a tactical error leaving me alone here with Smaug. I’d spill everything.
I gulped. “Yes, sir. It’s for kids under twelve. Alec filled it out. We got a number and everything.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“Didn’t he? He meant to.”
His mouth was tight. My eyes darted to the stairs wishing someone, even the dog, would come back in and rescue me.
“You want to come out and see it?” I squeaked like a mouse.
He ground his cigarette out in his plate and nodded an angry dragon’s nod. “Okay.”
It felt like a spring has been released in my legs. I skipped out two stairs at a time and ran to join the others in the front yard all crowded around the Tidely. Jeff was balancing on the back seat while Eric held the front down.
Alec was saying, “It flies like a rocket.”
“I bet.” Eric seemed impressed. “Mike Welton did this work for you? Not bad. What’d it cost?”
“Too bad this front seat is only big enough for Johnnie,” Jeff said. “Maybe you could fit, Katie.”
“You won’t get me on that contraption,” she said. “Are you really in a race?”
“Yup,” Alec said with a flicker of a glance at Dad who was looking the bike over. So far so good.
Alec sent me off to 67 to get our entry form. It looked like everything might be okay. But when I got back he and Dad were going at it for real. Dad was losing his temper. Kind of like when a dog growls at you and you know the next thing he’s going to do is bite.
“You’ve got to let us go. We worked so hard!” Alec was saying. “It isn’t fair.”
“If you’d told me a couple of weeks ago - even one week ago - maybe. But I’ve made plans to go to Grandma’s in the County this weekend.”
A trip to the County. Alec’s favourite place in the world. Taking the bike there to show cousin William would be lots of fun. I could see he was torn. “How about we go next weekend?” he pleaded.
Dad shook his head. “I planned this trip for you. William is expecting you to stay with him in Hubbs Crik.”
“We can’t go.” Alec tried to sound like Dad would when he laid down the law. But you don’t talk like that to Dad and stay on Earth for long. “...please? What if we leave after the race? We did tell you about it! Remember?”
We all waited for the judge’s verdict. Alec grabbed the race form from me and offered it to Dad. But Eric snatched it first.
“Let me see that. You really entered this mongrel in a bike race?” He laughed.
Alec said, “They didn’t specify what type of bike, so we built our own. Mike was so impressed he offered me a job helping him out next spring.”
“Really?” Jeff said.
Even Dad raised an eyebrow at that one. “He offered you a job?”
Alec nodded. “Didn’t he, John?”
“Yup. He said Alec did good work and to come back in the spring.”
Eric flicked the paper at Alec. “You are such a loser. You’ll get disqualified for sure, moron.”
“Will not,” Alec replied.
“Are you kidding? It says a bike race. Not a homemade, two wheeled Magilla.”
“It doesn’t say we can’t,” Alec insisted.
Dad raised his hands. “It’s moot anyway. We’re going to the County on Saturday morning and that’s final. Now, you two go inside and eat something so you can get your homework done before bedtime.”
Bang – sentenced to two days in the country, no parole.
Everyone trouped inside. One look at Alec’s face and I knew this wasn’t over. We put the bike in the cellar and forced down reheated corned beef hash. I had a million questions to ask but I didn’t say anything.
Alec was scheming. CHAPTER 17

We spent all the time we could that week practicing on the Tidely. Since she was a ship, we picked navy terms like ‘starboard’ and ‘port’ for right and left and Alec would yell ‘full astern’ when he was going to slam the brakes and ‘lay to’ to pedal like mad. We sail down the boardwalk with the cold fishy lake breeze stinging our cheeks, him crouched forward over my head yelling, “steady as she goes” and “trim up that line”.
In the afternoons, we rode it on the streets. Since both of us pedaled, some of the hills didn’t bother us at all. It was a lot of fun. We were free and felt powerful. Everyone did a double take when they saw this bike roll by. I wanted to show it off at school but Alec said no.
School was a blur. All I could think about was riding that bike. I wanted to sail all day until we could fly over the lake and disappear in the clouds. I dreamed about adventures with Debbie in my seat and me pedaling from Alec’s. We entered races, went on trips and fought evil witches.
I lucked out with Payson’s Idiots, too. Kevin Coughlin came to school on Monday with a huge rip in the backside of his pants and that gave the creeps someone new to pick on for a while.
On top of that, the pet show was coming up at the end of the week and that’s all anyone in class talked about. Everyone was telling tall tales about what their pet could do. I still had to work on a trick for Gully but I knew he’d win no matter what he did.
Was the curse lifted? Maybe going to the graveyard paid off. Things were going well.
When I got home there was a note waiting in McGill for me to meet Alec in the Door Room. He’d decided we could use it again since Mom was the only one who knew and she wasn’t home. I had to give the password twice before he gave the counter sign to come in. This time I let Gully in with me.
We crawled through to find Alec concentrating on a very strange project. Spread out on a shoe box lid was an open pack of cigarettes, a small pile of tobacco, and a couple of those really tiny lady finger firecrackers. The kind you could let explode in your hands they were so small. Not that I ever did.
“Where’d you get those?” I pointed at the bangers.
“I bought them off Ivan at school today. He’s been hanging on to them since Firecracker Day.”
I looked from them to the cigarettes. “Uh huh.”
“I’m going to give Eric a thank you bang for saying stuff about our bike.” The wily grin on his mug said there was no turning back. “He left this half pack upstairs. So while he’s out I’m cooking up a special “Pop Goes the Weasel” ciggie treat. And we all know who the weasel is.”
“Won’t he get hurt?”
“Fear not, they’re too small. It’ll just scare him. Boy, I’d love to be there when these babies goes off. It’ll teach him for calling our bike a mongrel.”
He was repacking one with tobacco around the firecracker, the wick sticking out near the end. He used a toothpick and the flat head of a small nail to tamp it all down so carefully in place that it didn’t get ripped or look lumpy. Then he rolled it carefully on the box to make sure the paper stayed round and smooth. It was like watching Barney assemble a bomb on Mission: Impossible. This was very important work to Alec.
When he was done he mixed the dynamite ones with a couple of regular cigarettes and asked if I could tell the difference. I looked really carefully, even fingered them.  I shook my head. “They’re perfect.” I said. “When it goes off, he’ll know who did it and thump you.”
“It’ll be too late when he does. Besides, he’ll never catch me. I’ll escape through the tunnels in our room.” It was hard to understand how he stayed so optimistic when he always got licked.
He snapped the box shut and we took them upstairs to put them back. Eric was in the kitchen talking with Dad. We had one chance. Alec snuck up to the third floor while I stood just inside our bedroom to keep an eye on the stairs. We hadn’t worked out a signal but I’d think of something.
I heard Eric at the bottom of the stairs. What do I do now? I tried to think of a question to stall him. But what? He was coming right up.
He smiled at me.
I asked, “Do you know when Mom will be home?”
“Next week.” He leaned in my doorway. “You getting tired of corned beef hash, too?”
“Is that what we’re having again?” Just the thought of another plate of eggs and hash made me want to barf.
Eric curled his lip sourly.“Maybe we can talk him into hamburgers one night.”
Alec strolled in like nothing was up. “What’re you guys talking about?”
Eric’s smile dropped into a sneer. “We were guessing how long it would take you to say something stupid.”
“A lot sooner than it would take you to say something smart.” Alec shot back. After Eric went upstairs, he added, “We’ll see who’s stupid.”
“What took you so long?” I asked. “He nearly caught you.”
“I talked with Jeff for a min,” he said, closing our bedroom door behind him. “He’ll support us for the race this weekend. If we can get Kate on board...” He rubbed his hands together. “Oh! Check this out.”
He pawed through some junk on his bed and held up a red pyjama top. “Ta Da!”
“Ta da?”
“I decided to switch the costumes. You know...for Halloween. We’ll still do Charlie Brown as a ghost but not as a manager.”
“Why?”
“You don’t want to have to haul around a baseball glove the whole time, do you?” He reached back on the bed and picked up a blue piece of cloth and his green gym shorts. “Besides, we don’t have a baseball glove, so that settles that. Guess who this is?”
Red shirt, blue sheet, green shorts. “Beats me.”
“Fantam! We’ll paint a big ‘F’ on the shirt and hang this behind for a cape. Then you can put a Zorro type mask on and go as your own superhero! Pretty good, huh?”
I never had a Fantam costume. “Yeah. That’s a great idea. I like it.”
“Soup’s on,” Dad called up. “Wash up and come to the table.”
Corned beef hash, eggs, and home fries. Again! Dad served them up like it was a special treat we hadn’t had in years. No one dared say a thing. We all picked at it like prison food. Except for Dad. He wolfed his down like it was birthday cake.
After supper Alec went into Dad’s study to ask about the race. I waited on the bottom landing and stared at the door with my knees hugged up at my chin. When he came out he was real mad. I followed him up to our room
“Dad won’t budge. He says we should have told him weeks ago when we were planning it. He said this weekend is important for us to go see Grandma.”
“Did he say why?”
“He said ‘just because’. He said we haven’t gone in months.” Alec moaned and dropped on the bed. He was so mad he even shoved Gully away. “Go bug John, you mutt.”
I hugged the dog. “What time does the race start?” I asked.
“Ten.” He got up and started kicking things. Important things. Breakable things. “This is so unfair.”
“Maybe we can get everyone to say they don’t want to go.”
“Jeff will. He has plans for the weekend. So does Eric. But he wouldn’t say so just to spite me. I don’t know about Kate.”
“Maybe we could go up and make a deal with him. I don’t know, clean his room for a month, slave for a day. Anything!”
Alec’s head started to slowly nod. He was scheming it out. His eyebrows crinkled up and he scrunched his lips closed over his braces. He’d find a way. I left him at it and peeked into Kate’s bedroom. It was a lot smaller than ours and always cleaned up. She was sitting at her desk doing her homework.
“You think you could get Dad to change his mind?” I asked. “He listens to you. We worked real hard to build that bike.”
“I told you all along you should have told him.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah... told him.” I mimicked. “Thanks a bunch.”
“Don’t blame me.”
I flopped down on her bed. I still hurt from being beat up.“When kids...you know...when mean kids...when they call you bad things at school...how come you can stay friends with them?” I couldn’t believe I just said that. It sort of poured out like lumpy mud. I couldn’t even look at her when I said it. When I did, she wasn’t looking back. She put her pen down and her face was red. When our eyes met we both knew we were looking in a broken mirror. There wasn’t anything to say.
“Skip it.” I said and got up to leave.
“I...I just do. I don’t have a choice. I can’t live like you - all shy and locked up. You’re like a mouse, scurrying around the school, never making a peep, living in some secret world. That’s no way to live. Not for me. I need friends, even if it’s hard.”
That caught me off guard. I thought I talked all day at school. I told her about getting beat up on Saturday. She was real sorry and almost cried. They should have been my tears.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “But it still doesn’t change things. It’s their fault they’re mean, not yours”
I wasn’t sure about that but she believed it.
The next afternoon, Alec and I took tea and toast up to the big boys. While Alec begged and pleaded for their help, I ran down to the store to get them a chocolate bar. They came outside and we demonstrated our bike on the street in front of the house. By dinner time Alec had Eric almost hooked. He said he’d think about talking the race up to Dad. They even said they might go.
Supper that night was fried eggs and home fries with no corned beef. I was amazed there weren’t five plateful’s of barf around the table. If they hadn’t by now, I bet everyone wished Mom was home.
“How fast can you guys really go on that bike?” Jeff asked.
“I bet it does forty miles an hour easy.” Alec said. “You should see it. Maybe you could time us.”
Dad didn’t bite. We kept dropping hints, like lobbing hand grenades, without actually mentioning the race. After a while, it just got silly.
“Say,” Kate said, “I wonder what you could do with a bike that fast? Do you think it could win any prizes?”
“That all depends on where you go,” Alec answered.
It was no good. Dad read the paper all through supper.
“What do we do now?” I asked when we were back up in our room afterwards. “Dad’s mind is made up.”
“We got to convince Eric and Jeff both to say they want to stay here this weekend,” Alec said. “This kind of stuff takes time. Like water over a rock: before long, you have a diamond. We’ll probably have to agree to do something else for them. Lick their boots or paint the Moon or something.
“All we got to do is get Dad to postpone the trip until after the race. We don’t have to cancel it, do we?”
“If that’s what it takes.”
“Hey! Look at this. Sit, Gully. Lie down.” I pointed at the ground. “Gully panted and stared at me. After a few more tries he lay down. “Do you think that’ll win the talent show?”
Alec laughed, not too hard, but enough for me to get the idea.
That bugged me. “You promised you’d help but you never did. The pet show is tomorrow and I don’t have a trick.”
“Relax. Here’s what you do. We teach him a magic trick.”
He popped a wad of gum out of his mouth and got up. “Ahem! Ladies and Gentlemen.” he announced. “The Amazing Gulliver will now be able to tell me which hand is holding the secret item. Could one of you give me a personal item?” He looked around like he was waiting for something.
I gave him a broken pencil.
“Thank you, sir.” He held it up to show the crowd that it was just an innocent pencil. Then he put his hands behind his back and came out with closed fists. “Gulliver! If you would be so kind, which hand is the pencil in?”
Gully poked one of his hands. Alec opened it. The pencil was there!
“Do that again.”
He repeated it six times. Every time Gully picked the right hand. We didn’t even use the same pencil each time.
“How did you do that?”
“Easy!” He showed me the item. “Just stick the chewed Juicy Fruit on the item behind your back. Gully will sniff the gum every time.
I had to admit it again. Alec was a genius!
Just then we heard a loud pop from down the hall. Like a balloon bursting.
“ALLLEEEC!”
We looked at each other. A firecracker!

Strange Days

Yesterday ran overtime. Buddy and I met with Kit's teachers to work out some playground issues and make sure his mind stays on his work. He's really starting to read a lot which is terrific, (he confessed that sometimes after lights out he switches the lamp on to read. I already knew it. "Like I'm going to stop that?" I said.) and he's been writing articles to make a family newspaper. The teachers suggested that he could start a school newspaper. There are other kids that would be interested. A counsellor offered to organize them, I said I'd do layout and editing. He's excited about the idea and we may be off to the start of something good.
Tio came home from his basketball game with three wins. The first was winning the game itself, the second is that he's finally on the starting line, and the other was a girl on the opposing squad (there is a girls and boys game that run back to back) said he was hot and a really good player. That'll put any boy in the right frame of mind.

Buddy has been assigned to go to other branches of his store franchise and teach the sales teams how to improve their departments. This is a huge boost for his self esteem and won't hurt his pay either.

So much for the good news.
Tish is coming down with a cold and working extra hours to make up the time lost when I was in hospital. Poor Doc sat bolt upright in bed around 9 pm and launched his supper all over the his bed. After cleaning that mess up I sat down to read the prep instructions for the PET scan I'm scheduled for next week. Down at the bottom it said, "For 8 hours following the scan don't hug any pregnant women or children and don't allow any small children to sit in your lap."

Let the radioactive games begin!

Guns don't kill people, the internet does

This may sound completely paradoxical but I've agreed to let Tio have a gun - a spring loaded pistol that shoots hollow plastic pellets. It's part of a game that he and his friends play using safety glasses and protective padding. Much like paintball with no paint.

I hate guns. I've never held a real gun and only shot a BB gun once in my life. I believe they are a bane to humanity and unchecked gun violence is pox on the American population. So why on Earth would I let him have one? After all, I'm the one who thinks video games are harmful and doles out internet use like a miser giving away pennies. Well, as I said, it's a paradox.

When Tio took me to the gun dept at Walmart to show me, he told me about using one at a sleepover and I thought about him going hunting with his uncle Danny and his fascination with them and figure that maybe he needs to learn how to use and handle them responsibly. So he bought the thing, along with a pair of safety glasses, with the caveat that he needed Grammo and Dad's approval before we opened the package. If even one of them said no, it would be returned.

So why would I approve of something that can be so obviously harmful and yet be so restrictive of the internet and facebook, which are seemingly harmless? Maybe my priorities are screwy but it really shows how strongly I feel about video and internet use.

First off, the gun is real. You hold it in your hand, practice and learn a real skill that requires time and coordination in the real world. Ninety-nine percent of it's use will be on target practice. Second, we live in a land of deer hunters and Tio has already been introduced. Third, this isn't about me and my beliefs, it's about Tio and his interest and ability to use a gun correctly. The true harm of firearms is in their misuse - of which there is plenty - but when used properly and managed safely they pose no threat to mind or body. Teaching him proper use and responsibility will be part of the process.

On the other hand, internet and video gaming is a huge unregulated jungle where violence of man against man is acceptable, even graphically splattered everywhere, and denegration of women common. Almost all video games involve some kind of gun violence and the internet itself, while full up with useful information, is also chock a block with predators, misinformation, addictive activities and unsavory videos. It's too much for an immature mind to absorb and comprehend.

I'd much rather he was outside firing pellets at a tin can.

The Art of Blogging Honestly

This is a guest blog I wrote for The Nanahood. Please visit Teresa's great page for lots of gramma stuff.

I started a grampy blog a year and a half ago after my son moved back home with his kids. Crammed together in a small New England cape along with our 4 dogs there was no question this had the makings of a great blog: two grandparents giving up their retirement to start raising a family again, a dad who just got custody and didn't have a clue what to do next, and three boys who couldn't be different (a 10 year old jock, a cross-dressing 8 year old, and an OCD toddler). As the only woman, my wife had just one demand: "I want my own bathroom."

Before I could write a word, I had to look inside myself and ask this question (a question that all parent/grandparent bloggers face): how honest and close to the bone should I write? Should I be candid and share what's really going on in the house - warts, bad moods and all? Or should I do what is more typical and present a rosy impression of being a devoted granddad, complete with lots of smiley pictures and cute anecdotes. As we all know, life lies somewhere in the middle of bad moods and puppy smiles. Life is messy and life in a crowded house full of kids and dogs is the definition of messy.

I'm not sure how any fellow bloggers reading this handle their thruths. Do you make a conscious decision to only dig so deep? Do you naturally know where the line for discretion is in your writing, as in your day to day life? If a touchy subject comes up that might fall in a grey area, do you avoid it or write it? I think this is a critical point for for any writer: how much are you willing to expose about yourself to share the truth? Is the truth important?

After researching and reading a number of blogs, I decided if I couldn't be honest and share real feelings, good and bad, there would be no point to the blog. I try to reach into my thoughts and feelings every time I face the page to get under the piece I'm writing rather than just relate a story. That can be tough. After all, I'm trying to relate the dynamics of a multigenerational household in turmoil. I'll write about anything as long as I can maintain the dignity of who I'm writing about. When it works, and I share a common truth about an issue, it touches my readers deeply. And when I've missed I unintentionally insult my family, which is painful and I've apologized for it. Sometimes, it's not easy to know where the line is until after I cross it. Then it's too late.

As writers, though, we all face this. When you put your foot in it, or say something inappropriate, should we say 'I'm sorry', move on and learn from the mistake? Or do we back off and lick our wounds and stop writing with honesty? Shouldn't we be true to ourselves, even when painful, and true to our subject whether fact or fiction? Another tough call.

I'm a science fiction novelist so writing about the people I love is a challenge. However, I'm developing a sitcom pilot based on this little microworld so I sure hope my family can take a joke.