Friday, May 6, 2011
Griffin & the Order of the Pop-Secret
This is Griffin. No, he is not a fierce mythological creature that is made up of the foreparts of an eagle, and the hindquarters of a lion. This Griffin is the fiercely hilarious son of my friend Beth (the Beth who, along with her husband, two sons, and daughter, lost their poultry farm in the storms last week).
Griffin has a way of putting things into perspective. Here are just a few quotes out of the mouth of Griffin, posted by Beth to her Facebook wall:
“On Griffin's math test, he was to define/explain why the shape was a rectangle. His answer? ‘I say it's a rectangle because it looks like a rectangle.’”
“At church, Griffin's teacher said they were discussing the power of God and the powerful things He has created. He asked the class to give examples. Some answered: ‘hurricanes,’ ‘tornadoes.’ Griffin's response: ‘My mom.’”
And on Friday, April 29th, I received an email from Beth with numerous photos of the devastation that once was their farm. Among the photos of damage was the photo seen above, the photo of Griffin holding an unpopped, cellophane-wrapped bag of popcorn. In Beth’s message were the following sentences:
“Always have to find a smile, and having Griffin around usually brings one! At our farm he retrieved an in-tact (as he said, for emphasis) bag of Pop Secret...he was THRILLED! He also found Slade’s office TV remote nearly at the mountain, saying, ‘Dad, here's your remote,’ and then looked at me, whispering, ‘you know how grouchy he gets when he can't find it!’
I think that pretty much sums up Griffin. Fiercely hilarious...a protective salve for what ails ya.
So, mom doesn’t like being the center of attention, but I’m going to force her into the limelight for a moment. Today marks her final full week of treatment. Yep, that’s right. She’s done with everything except the last three radiation treatments. No more chemo, and after Wednesday of next week, no more radiation. I know she’s tired, and she’s a bit crispy in a very unmentionable area of her body (and probably sitting right now on the child’s blow up pool inner tube dad got her), but she has almost made it (literally and figuratively) out of the fire. This may call for a small victory dance of thankfulness sometime today. And since I’ll be working our Links for Literacy Tournament, I may have to do my dance on the 3rd hole of the golf course. Suits me just fine.