“Hey, everybody! Look at the fat guy with the groceries!”
09/05/10 17:34
A CFer I recently met online told me that it would be nice to hear more about Keith. Maybe he said it because he knows that a parent needs to talk about their lost child; maybe he meant it for just the unvarnished truth. Who knows. Either way, I probably do need to talk about Keith more. It hurts like hell, and pain is not something that is finite, I’ve found. Not this kind of pain, anyway.
Anyway, I thought I’d write a little about Keith. Just to give you a hint of his personality. So, here goes:
At school, Keith had to have bodyguards. Seriously. Walking from class to class, in the lunchroom, everywhere. I let the teachers and the administrators at the school know that, if my son was hurt, they would pay big time.
Why, you ask, would someone hurt him? Well, because Keith was tiny, for his age, but his mouth was really big. He didn’t mince words, and he didn’t consider the size of those he was talking to, when he decided he needed to say something. He was just like that. The acidity of his wit could curl your toenails off.
When he went camping with my brother and his boys, one summer, my brother stopped at the store and was buying groceries for the trip, and he left the boys in the truck, to wait for him. My brother is a big guy; both tall and overweight. He looms.
Keith, waiting in the truck, saw my brother exiting the grocery store and coming into the parking lot, and yelled out, “Hey, everybody! Look at the fat guy with the groceries!” My brother’s kids were astounded that Keith would have the nerve to do this to their father, but Keith got a big kick out of it. And so did my brother.
I don’t know why he didn’t have a healthy fear of those who were larger than him, but he didn’t. Or maybe he did, but he just had to speak his mind. He wasn’t fearful, either, of anyone in authority. He was in a special class at school, for kids who acted up (of course) and when the teacher’s aide (a total idiot) told the boys that they stunk and that they needed to go home that night and take a bath, Keith told her to go “f___ herself.” She sent him to the principal’s office, where Keith told the principal that if he, the principal, had told that him he stunk, then he (Keith) would tell him to go “f___ himself,” too. Strangely enough, the principal agreed and sent him back to class.
Anyway, that’s just a little flavor of my son, Keith. I wish you could have known him.
Anyway, I thought I’d write a little about Keith. Just to give you a hint of his personality. So, here goes:
At school, Keith had to have bodyguards. Seriously. Walking from class to class, in the lunchroom, everywhere. I let the teachers and the administrators at the school know that, if my son was hurt, they would pay big time.
Why, you ask, would someone hurt him? Well, because Keith was tiny, for his age, but his mouth was really big. He didn’t mince words, and he didn’t consider the size of those he was talking to, when he decided he needed to say something. He was just like that. The acidity of his wit could curl your toenails off.
When he went camping with my brother and his boys, one summer, my brother stopped at the store and was buying groceries for the trip, and he left the boys in the truck, to wait for him. My brother is a big guy; both tall and overweight. He looms.
Keith, waiting in the truck, saw my brother exiting the grocery store and coming into the parking lot, and yelled out, “Hey, everybody! Look at the fat guy with the groceries!” My brother’s kids were astounded that Keith would have the nerve to do this to their father, but Keith got a big kick out of it. And so did my brother.
I don’t know why he didn’t have a healthy fear of those who were larger than him, but he didn’t. Or maybe he did, but he just had to speak his mind. He wasn’t fearful, either, of anyone in authority. He was in a special class at school, for kids who acted up (of course) and when the teacher’s aide (a total idiot) told the boys that they stunk and that they needed to go home that night and take a bath, Keith told her to go “f___ herself.” She sent him to the principal’s office, where Keith told the principal that if he, the principal, had told that him he stunk, then he (Keith) would tell him to go “f___ himself,” too. Strangely enough, the principal agreed and sent him back to class.
Anyway, that’s just a little flavor of my son, Keith. I wish you could have known him.