alison's house

Used to play cards at Alison's house late at nights
Never felt like I was missing out on the city lights
'Cause her innocence was pure
And her brown eyes seemed a cure
For anything that was ailing me or anything that might

We were young and we were free
It was nineteen ninety-three
And I's always told the years will go
So much faster than you can believe

But I did not believe...

Used to drive by Alison's house to see if she's home
Sometimes I'd stop and see her, sometimes I'd drive on
'Cause when you're young and when you're not
Always don't know what you got
Until someday you're years away and she's all gone

We were young and we were free
It was nineteen ninety-three
And I's always told the years will go
So much faster than you can believe

I'm starting to believe...

I drove out by Alison's house last Saturday
Don't think I'd been past it since her momma passed away
It looks just like it did then
And as the shivers flew down my skin
I wished to God I could stop and see her one more time again

We were young and we were free
It was nineteen ninety-three
And I's always told the years will go
So much faster than you can believe

It's still so hard to believe...

twenty-some

Do you remember a two-lane road through the national forest at 3 in the morning
Cleaning out the bed of your truck, dumping on the county road
The summer wind, the cool creek on our skin when we finally made the falls
Didn't have any clue back then we were cleaning out our souls

Do you remember basketball in your momma's yard in the summertime moonlight
Or cheap vodka straight and video games late nights after we moved out
The first time I drove a stick was in your blue and silver old Ford Ranger
Nineties country blarin' on the radio as I was burnin' that clutch plumb out

Years they only vanish, little truths you come to learn
Like time ain't no friend of mine, but friend, you damn sure were
Now you're up there and we're still here, no longer anything close to young
But as long as I can see us in my mind, we'll always be twenty-some

Do you remember bottle rocket wars on July 4th, and cutthroat pool on weekends
Coming to pick us up when we got stuck in the mud out in Lagrange at 4 AM
Seemed like we were forever searching for something that never quite could be found
All the while it was right in front of us is what I'm only realizing now

Did you really take that money, if you'd have asked I would have helped you out
He could never trust you after that, but I hope in time you felt forgiven
I wish you could see my kids 'cause I can picture you making them laugh
Wish I'd come to see you when you got sick, and I wish you were still living

Years they only vanish, and certain truths you come to learn
Like time ain't no friend of mine, but friend, you damn sure were
Now you're up there and we're still here, no longer anything close to young
But as long as I can see us in my mind, we'll always be twenty-some

Once you were six years old

"What hast thou to do with sorrow/Or the injuries of tomorrow/Thou art a dew-drop which the morn brings forth/Ill-fitted to sustain unkindly shocks..."

Most nights anymore, our living room is your concert hall.  Various plastic containers and metal mixing bowls comprise an expansive, if rudimentary, drum set.  You have a real microphone and microphone stand gifted to you by your (great) uncles who we visit each year at the beach.  And a small amplifier donated with love by your Peepaw.

Your set list is almost entirely Imagine Dragons.  "Believer" and "Thunder" came out shortly after you were born, and we listened to them countless times on the way to and from daycare back in those days.  Thankfully, you've expanded your repertoire to include several of their other songs.  The only exception is your finale, which is always the Glass Animals' infectious "Heat Waves."

I attempt to play the drums while you sing and dance around the stage in one of several "Singing Man Dan" plaid button-up shirts we've bought for you.  (Imagine Dragons lead singer's name is Dan.  He wore plaid shirts in a couple of videos.  Therefore it only stands to reason that all lead singers must wear plaid.)  Some nights your mother will "play" the guitar.  And your sister... well, she sometimes serves as a stage dancer, sometimes she joins me on drums, and other times she plays with her dolls unaffected by the ruckus.

You take it all so seriously.  We installed multi-colored light bulbs in the ceiling fan light assembly which you adjust to match the stage lights of whichever video you are watching.  You are also known for giving strict and explicit instructions to band members during the show should we veer off course.  But you once said I was probably the best drummer in the whole world, so that gets me through the scoldings.

You turned six last month.  One of my favorite moments of your birthday party was walking outside to see you coming down the bounce-house slide with three girls.  You later complained your least favorite part of the day was when said girls had gone inside for a few minutes to play dolls with your sister.  (I fight against a strong urge to insert the obligatory "That's my boy!" here.)

After receiving a real bowling ball for your birthday from your Nana, I woke up Sunday to discover that our kitchen had been turned into a four-lane bowling alley.  Lane one was comprised of your plastic bowling pins.  This devolved into a rag-tag collection of Do-A-Dot markers and plastic bottles for pins across lanes two thru four, at last requiring (and possibly highlighted by) a single, empty Sun Drop can to complete lane four.

You love YouTube.  Some genius -- I use this in both the best and most sarcastic senses of the word -- created a mini bowling lane in his house, with a working pin-setter.  Now that you've seen that video, you want us to build our own.  (Thanks a lot, Braedan Brennaman.) Last year for Christmas, you wanted a lawn mower -- one that legitimately cuts.  In the interim, whenever we mow, you carry a pair of scissors as you push your plastic mower, bending down every several steps to trim some blades of grass.

You are smart, sensitive, energetic, and far too sweet for this world.  A wonderful big brother to a sister who doesn't always deserve it.

We were at the doctor's office a couple of weeks ago when you pointed to the wall behind me and said excitedly, "Daddy, I know that painting!"  "Really, what is it, buddy?"  "It's called the Starry Night," you said sweetly just as I turned around to see a copy of Van Gogh's famed masterpiece, while thinking to myself, "I don't think I knew that until I was twenty-five!"

There is little doubt you will soar higher than I ever dreamed.  I can't do it for you.  No matter how many times I wish I could, I can't do any of it for you.  But I will always be there to steady the ladder as you climb.

Overjoyed that for a little while I got to be the drummer in your concert.

July 1976

Granny put your rollin' pin down
Granny put your rollin' pin down
It's time for them to lay grandpa in the ground
Granny put your rollin' pin down

Mama she been up all night
Oh, my Mama she been up all night
I could hear her cryin' 'til the early morning light
Poor Mama she been up all night

People gonna come far and near
People gonna come far and near
Child, won't you hold still and let me pin this boutonniere
'Cause people gonna come far and near

Uncle Joe gave me a two-dollar bill
Uncle Joe gave me a two-dollar bill
Mama said I better save it so I guess I always will
Uncle Joe gave me a two-dollar bill

Thought Granny would cry but she ain't
Thought my Granny would cry but she ain't
I heared some folks a-sayin' that grandpa wudn't no saint
Thought Granny would cry but she ain't

Aunt Ida says grandpa is asleep
Aunt Ida says grandpa is asleep
Uncle Calvin says this place always give him the creeps
But Aunt Ida says grandpa's just asleep

Jesus gonna come back someday
Jesus gonna come back someday
Least that's what I always heared the preacher man say
Jesus gonna come back someday

Folks'll be bringing lots of food
Folks'll be bringing lots of food
You just learn to clean your plate and tell 'em that it's good
Folks'll be bringing lots of food

Daddy can we go into town
Daddy can we go into town
After they lay my grandpa in the ground
Aw, Daddy can we go into town

Wish I had me a cold RC
With I had me a cold RC
Someday I'll die too, but today I'm only three
And I wish I had a cold RC

We'll be back on Decoration Day
We'll be back here on Decoration Day
Women-folk bring flowers and us kids will run and play
We'll be back here on Decoration Day

Granny put your rollin' pin down
Aw, Granny put your rollin' pin down
I just watched some strangers lay poor grandpa in the ground
So Granny put your rollin' pin down

Rice Frisbees

On Monday, you were Santa Claus, pulling around your "sleigh" -- a plastic blue and grey toy shopping cart -- filled with "presents" -- four foam blocks containing, respectively,  a toy cow, an asthma inhaler, plastic scissors, and some crescent-shaped plastic green object from parts unknown.  

You walk down the hall yelling "Ho, ho, ho" and bring presents to your daddy, who is pretending to be asleep on the kitchen floor.  Then you return to the North Pole, previously purposed as your mommy and daddy's bathroom, and start your magical journey all over again.  

But this is not quite enough, therefore you request something red to wear so as to be a bit more convincing.  Your daddy finds one of his shirts -- a red beach t-shirt -- that you eagerly climb into.  Once a red and grey baseball cap is added, the ensemble is complete.

It is Tuesday now and we have come to the park.  The weather is about as perfect as weather can be -- sunny and breezy, with the seductive coolness of fall.  It's the kind of day that seems to become a little more scarce with each passing year.

You and your sister begin to bound down the hill towards the playground.  About halfway, you change your mind.  You stop, turn around, and tell me you want to go down to the bridge and throw rocks in the water.  It is something we have done just once, the last time we came here, right near the end of our visit.  That you remember it and are choosing it above the swings and slides causes my soul to smile.

So your mother follows along after Harper to the playground, while you and I make our way down to the creek, or "river" as you will call it later.

At first, you sit on the bridge hanging your legs off the side.  I get a little nervous wondering if you could slip through the railing but I try hard to let you be.  You and your sister will never know the thousands of times my hands have been right there, an inch or two away, ready to catch you in case you fall.  

We cross over to the far side and began to pick up rocks and throw them into the "river."  I search for good skipping rocks.  You mimic my movements, appearing as if you're looking for just the perfect stone yourself.  You can't skip them yet, but that doesn't stop you from sidearming them into the water like your daddy.

We continue there for what must be twenty or thirty minutes.  I finally have to remind you about the playground.  But before we leave the creek bank, you notice a couple of people disc golfing and ask what they are doing.

I explain to you about the discs and the baskets and you ask if we have any at home.  I tell you that we have some discs and if the weather is nice we can come back tomorrow and throw them into the baskets.

At some point during my explanation, I must have used the term frisbee when referring to the discs.  And somehow you must have mixed up frisbee with Rice Krispies, because for the rest of the day you keep asking if we can go back to the park tomorrow and play "rice frisbees."

And I fall a little bit more in love with you.

4

You turned four last week.  

I wish I could write something grand, something worthy of your first four years, the joy you have brought to our lives and all the things we have learned from you.  But I cannot.

You are too sweet for this world.  A wonderful big brother to Harper.  You have been a wonderful child, our joy and pride.  And I don't know if you will remember this time of COVID, but you are a champ at wearing your mask.  It is normal for you.  You wear it far more willingly (and properly) than many adults.

You love garbage trucks and trains. You dressed up as a garbage truck for Halloween, thanks to some amazing handiwork by your mommy.  The getup included a fluorescent yellow vest which you wore every day for over two weeks, even putting it on over your pajamas to sleep in at night.

Every Tuesday if you're home, you take your toy garbage truck out onto the sidewalk with all your trash cans (and trash).  When the garbage man arrives, you proceed to mimic his actions, grabbing each can with your grabber arm, emptying it into your hopper, then setting it back down before moving along to the next.  All the while you are making garbage truck noises.  

The garbage man waves and honks.  He knows you, oh yes he does, to the extent that he was able to set up your four-year photo shoot at the local sanitation department, or as you call it, "where the garbage trucks sleep."  

"Garbage man Shane" even bought you a toy garbage truck, put official city sanitation stickers on it, filled it with candy, and gave it to you for your birthday.  And even though you have a fancier garbage truck at home, you solely played with the one the garbage man gave you for two weeks.

The years have flown, little buddy.  Oftentimes I find myself staring at you in amazement. 

You're perfect.  All your bones still unbroken.  Your innocence intact.  And so very many dreams have you yet to dream. 

I cannot help but wonder what the future holds...

When I am sixty-six, and you are twenty-three
Let me still remember the joy you were to me
Those golden curls, the morning snuggles
All your triumphs and your struggles

Story times and nursery rhymes
And the songs that we would sing
Jesus loves you, this you knew
From a very early age

When for me November comes
And your summer's just begun
I'll always be your biggest fan
Please come to visit when you can

When I am sixty-six, and you are twenty-three
I will still remember that perfect boy upon my knee
However far you wander, whatever you believe
But for now, just be four, for as long as you can be...

Decision 2020

As (alleged) adults, we are faced with difficult choices this time of the year.  The consequences of said choices can have long-lasting effects.  And though we do our best, we may find ourselves guilt-ridden due to the choices we make.

That's where I come in.  Not to help you make your decision, but rather, to help you justify your choices.  

I hereby present Bone's Stealing Halloween Candy from Your Kid Justification Guide.  Today I will provide you with reasons to abscond with your child's (nephew, niece, grandkid, neighbor's kid, etc.) Halloween candy, while also mentioning a couple of treats that should be find for your child to consume.  Using my own child's stash as a prototype, I will proceed to go through this piece by piece.  

Tootsie Roll ~ There is no other chocolate that tastes quite like a Tootsie Roll.  You ever thought about that?  Why has no one duplicated this unique taste?  What's in it?  What aren't they telling us?  So while extremely delicious, this just doesn't seem safe.

Life Savers ~ The ironically named candy can and has contributed to death by choking.  More than three people are thought to have died from this throughout history.  Now, I totally just made up that number because a Google search provided no such statistics.  So while you can't prove that it's true, your child also most likely can't prove that it isn't true.

Mounds ~ Many children may have an undiagnosed coconut allergy.  (Or a diagnosed coconut allergy, in which case giving them a Mounds would likely leave you facing criminal charges.)

Almond Joy ~ Even if you were to risk the coconut allergy, the almond is a big no-no.  Choke city.

Smarties ~ While never having been proven to make anyone smarter, these hard nuggets of deliciousness are terrible for your teeth.  And your child will only ever have one set of teeth.  Well, besides the set they get when their baby teeth fall out, but they don't need to know that, yet.

Reese's ~ Here's the thing: Once your child has a Reese's, there is very little left for them to look forward to in life.  You?  It's too late for you.  You know there's nothing else.  Let them be little, forgodsake!

Milk Duds ~ Known in some remote areas of Kazakhstan as "Delicious Child Chokers."  Need I say more?

Butterfinger ~ If you did give your child a Reese's, then one of the only things left for them to look forward to (besides sex and wine), is a Butterfinger.  Again, don't let them peak too early.

Any sort of homemade treat ~ If you're like me, you have a real problem eating food made by people you don't know.  But kids?  Kids eat anything and everything -- dirt, Play-doh, paper, any number of unidentified foodstuffs from off the floor.  And you know what?  They've survived.  Enough with the helicopter parenting, Gladys!  If Mrs. Taylor down the street isn't necessarily a bastion of cleanliness, chances are your child won't even notice.

Three Musketeers ~ Have you read this novel?  Well, me neither, but according to Wikipedia, it includes violence, seduction, and execution.  I mean, you may as well let your kids play violent video games.  Or watch television.  As d'Artagnan might have said, thou savest this deliciousness for thine own self.

Whoppers ~ Whopper -- another word for "lie."  So unless you want to feed your kid a bunch of lies, steer clear here.

Skittles ~ Skittles is Scandinavian for orthodontic nightmare.  No child likes to go to the dentist, so why make them go any earlier than they have to?  I don't plan on taking mine until they're at least twelve.

Fig Newtons ~ Soft, chewy, somewhat healthy, taste a little like cardboard........  Yeah, these should be fine.

Laffy Taffy ~ No.  Never.  These chewy candies are teeming with made-to-order Dad jokes!  But my child can't read, you say.  Well, perhaps you should have them open a book rather than another piece of candy.

Twix ~ Do you really want to introduce your child to caramel this early in their life?  Early onset diabetes here we come.  However, there are fun games you can play with your child and a Twix.  Have your child point out at least five differences between the Twixes.  Also, ask your child which Twix is the left Twix.  When he/she points to the left one, turn the Twix upside down and yell, "Wrong again, loser!"

Follow me for more life-saving parenting tips.

Er, on second thought, you probably shouldn't

Catfish and COVID

The news came on the first of October:  You had tested positive for COVID-19.  It came via text message from your wife.  She had been keeping us updated as you hadn't felt well all week.  

You didn't want to go to the hospital.  You knew you would be isolated there.  You had underlying conditions, your asthma and your COPD.  I'm sure there was a fear you would never come home.  If I thought it, I'm almost certain you did.

How could you not?  How could anybody?  My last text to you had been about my best friend being in the hospital with the virus after his dad died of it the week before.  

"You'd better go to the doctor before it turns into pneumonia," I heard numerous times growing up. "Son, don't mess around with this stuff, it's dangerous," you had said to me just a few months earlier when I had been sick (and later tested positive for Influenza A).

Yet here you were, doing just what you had cautioned me against my whole life.

We finally convinced you, and the following Monday you were admitted.

Talking to you that week was all we could do.  You sounded down, on the verge of despondent.  They had you on oxygen.  Your daughter sounded so worried.  Every time we spoke it seemed she was on the verge of tears.  I was worried, too.  But I tried to hide it for her sake.  

Not even six weeks ago you and I had gone to lunch for your birthday -- your seventieth.  We'd eaten at a familiar catfish restaurant.  The food was a long time coming, but it turned out to be a good thing.  We talked.  You mentioned, almost in passing, about your father putting your mother in the hospital.  You had never mentioned this to me.  I had tried not to act surprised so as to not discourage anything else you might be about to share.

You tend to remember specific moments in life, moreso than days or weeks or years.  And that is a moment I will always remember.

It was at this same meal we talked about my anxiety and how I had gone on meds last year for it, at long last, and how much better my quality of life was now.  You told me that you had been on anxiety meds for years.  This was another thing that was previously unbeknownst to me.  Inside I was frustrated that you had not told me before now.  Did you not realize how that knowledge might have helped me?

How had we lived all these years as father and son and it was just now that I was hearing these things for the first time?  Was it my fault?  Maybe you just assumed you had told me at some point?

These were the things I thought about now, as you lay miles away in a hospital bed.  We sent you pictures of the kids.  Videos.  Anything that might keep you from becoming discouraged.

There is a lot I don't understand about you, Dad.  I don't understand your rabid support for Trump.  I couldn't help but think that had caused you to not take the virus seriously.  You and your wife had gone to Tennessee for dinner the very first night they reopened restaurants because Alabama's were still carry-out only.  You were always going somewhere, it seemed.  "I'm not going to stop living my life," you had said.  

Now I prayed only that you would have a lot more life left to live.

On Wednesday, news came that you might get to come home before the weekend.  On Thursday, they took you off the oxygen.  On Friday, you were released.

You still sound weak, wiped out.  There is a still a long road ahead.  But you are home, to watch your Fox News and post your political rants and memes on Facebook.

We don't talk politics much.  People are far more important than politics.  I know that no matter how far apart we may be on the issues, you will still come over to help me patch up the roof, mend the fence, or work on the car.

You overcame a lot, Dad.  A father who committed suicide and was an abusive husband, for starters.  Open-heart surgery.  Hip replacement.  Smoking.  An emergency tracheotomy.  And now, COVID-19.

Surely you can survive a son that is trying to raise his kids to say and do pretty much the exact opposite of everything your beloved Trump says and does.

I hope so.  I want them to have their grandfather around for a lot more years, to have a chance to get to know you better.  It's a chance I never had, as mine had both passed on by the time I was three.

Thanks for still being here, Dad.  Let's have some more catfish soon.