Tuesday, March 07, 2006


Equal Time-- Another Mythical Warrior

In a previous post, I talked about the origin of my younger son's name... well, his older brother bears the name of another legendary warrior.... George.

I'm going to be frank...I would not have named my eldest "George" had I been given any choice in the matter. It's not a bad name to have at 20, or 30, or 60-- but it's tough to look at an infant in a cradle and call him George. But it was his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather's name, and I was outvoted.

While the legend of St. George and the dragon is incredibly parallel to that of Michael and Lucifer, and it may have played some part in the naming of some man in his father's family somewhere along the line, this son was actually named for real people.

He was an incredibly easy baby, and a sunny toddler. About age 2, he started to become, as my mother would have said, "a handful" but he was never cruel or mean-- he was just something of a blockhead and had absolutely no concept of cause and effect. He was not best pleased by the arrival of Michael, and made his displeasure apparent in numerous ways-- several of which required a trip to the ER for the treatment of minor injuries-- both on his part and Mike's. (Ironically, these incidents would taper off as Michael grew older. As their Mom, I want to believe that it was because the 2 grew closer as they grew up. Pragmatically, it was probably because by the time they were in first grade, Mike could dish out as good as he got.)

His curiosity and "creative problem solving" landed him in hot water more than once. The "Spiderman Incident" that dropped him off the porch and into my rosebushes six feet below comes immediately to mind. The special locks that we had to put on the second floor windows to prevent him from removing the screens and crawling out on to the roof-- at age three-- and the time he dumped a 30-gallon aquarium because he was trying to "pet the fish" both speak to his determination and fearlessness.

George was, and is, a gentle soul at heart. He's smarter than he gives himself credit for being. Like all young people, he has not made it through his 20's without a few stumbles and false starts, but I look at him in the context of the folks his age whom I encounter professionally, and he's doing far better than "just fine." He has good friends who support him and to whom he provides support. He's learned an openness and spontenaity that I could never have taught him. He loves his daughter with an intensity that is a joy to behold. Olivia is the making of him. Just as I always say that my sons were the best thing to ever happen to me, I suspect in 30 years George will be saying the same about Olivia.

I had a conversation with him yesterday, and it was the highlight of my day. He's funny and upbeat, and he makes me smile even on days when there isn't a lot to smile about. Whether it's a silly turn of phrase ("I told her it was just a random Mother apparition, not a planned event") or his take on Olivia's pre-language babble ("She looks at you as though you're the nutjob because you don't understand her, then repeats the exact same thing with exactly the same inflection three times because she knows--isn't it sad?-- you're so incredibly slow and stupid.")

Love ya, kid. You're my hero. Posted by Picasa

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