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It's coming...that time of year when I once again embark on a pilgramage of survival. I load up 20 dogs and take to the highway, headed south and hopefully warmer weather. As I plan for the trip, I marveled at how quickly the year had past, and remembered a homecoming funny from last spring.... and thought I'd share a smile.
Christian, my son who at 5 years of age is ALL boy. It seems he had become facinated with earthworms and had begun collecting them. With the recent spring showers they were in no short supply. But when I noticed that he was collecting them in an old ant farm in his room, I had to say no. "Christian, I do NOT want worms in the house, they have to be kept outside."..with that he stomped down the hall and out the front door. Upon his return he said, "Dad, I know you don't want worms in the house but I was gonna train them...and I was keeping them in that kennel." "I know son, but not in the house." It was after a couple of days of sitting on the porch that the "kennel" housing the worms, having basked in the sunshine...were in need of attention. I told Christian he should dump them out, some of them didn't appear to being doing all that well. He came into the house crying, with hands out held he showed me the reason for his sadness. "Wwwormy is dead...he was my favorite." he told me between sobs. I confirmed that yes indeed wormy had passed on, and suggested he bury him. It was not a long funeral procession but with head hung low he trodded to the edge of the driveway and dug a trench, stretched wormy out and laid him to rest. A short time later he came in the house and still sniffling said,"It's gonna be ok Dad... I was praying to God..and I heard him in my head tell me that wormy was gonna be rezcorrected in 3 days." Well not exactly the Easter story, but he did catch the highlights. I smiled and went about my day.. I did NOT think to count the days as they passed..but someone was. I ran to the door, having heard the scream...I envisioned a bone protruding out of his arm, or a head wound that was gonna need stitches..instead.... These were real tears streaming down his face. Inbetween sobs I could make out, "God lied! Wormy's still dead." and there in his outstretched hands looking like a granite sprinkled stick, was wormy. Oh son, we need to bury wormy....again. So I suggested that this time we lay wormy to rest in the garden, not really a garden per se, but a spot that we try to hold the weeds back long enough for a couple of tomatoe plants to yield their fruit. On the way I told Christian that God didn't give worms a long life, but that thier life was important short as it was. They were drillers...their job was to drill holes in the ground to allow rain to get to the roots of the trees and flowers, and that when they died they would decompose and become food for the plants so they would grow big and strong. He asked me,"Dad, what does decompose mean?.." I explained that when one dies and is laid in the ground the body just kinda breaks up into many pieces and becomes part of the dirt. "Dad..." yea son... "Are the tommatoes gonna taste like worms?"... I hope not son. A couple of weeks had passed. Bill O'Connor, a very good client had passed away. I wanted to go to the funeral home and pay my respects... Lisa was going to meet me there after Christian's karate class. Standing in the rear of the viewing room, with a fully garbed little ninja next to me... "Dad ?...Can we go look at him??" Sure son, so I took his hand and we made our way to the front of the casket. I asked Christian if he remembered Bill, he said he thought so. "He looks peaceful doesn't he." "Yea but he's not sleeping is he Dad." "No son, he's dead..they're going to bury him in the morning." Now I haven't been 5 for a very long while, I have forgotten how the imformation received at that age is processed. As we turned to rejoin Lisa in the rear of the parlor, in front of the widow and family...and loud enough to be heard...he asks, "Dad..is he gonna decompose JUST like wormy?"..................
let's go home son.
Christian, my son who at 5 years of age is ALL boy. It seems he had become facinated with earthworms and had begun collecting them. With the recent spring showers they were in no short supply. But when I noticed that he was collecting them in an old ant farm in his room, I had to say no. "Christian, I do NOT want worms in the house, they have to be kept outside."..with that he stomped down the hall and out the front door. Upon his return he said, "Dad, I know you don't want worms in the house but I was gonna train them...and I was keeping them in that kennel." "I know son, but not in the house." It was after a couple of days of sitting on the porch that the "kennel" housing the worms, having basked in the sunshine...were in need of attention. I told Christian he should dump them out, some of them didn't appear to being doing all that well. He came into the house crying, with hands out held he showed me the reason for his sadness. "Wwwormy is dead...he was my favorite." he told me between sobs. I confirmed that yes indeed wormy had passed on, and suggested he bury him. It was not a long funeral procession but with head hung low he trodded to the edge of the driveway and dug a trench, stretched wormy out and laid him to rest. A short time later he came in the house and still sniffling said,"It's gonna be ok Dad... I was praying to God..and I heard him in my head tell me that wormy was gonna be rezcorrected in 3 days." Well not exactly the Easter story, but he did catch the highlights. I smiled and went about my day.. I did NOT think to count the days as they passed..but someone was. I ran to the door, having heard the scream...I envisioned a bone protruding out of his arm, or a head wound that was gonna need stitches..instead.... These were real tears streaming down his face. Inbetween sobs I could make out, "God lied! Wormy's still dead." and there in his outstretched hands looking like a granite sprinkled stick, was wormy. Oh son, we need to bury wormy....again. So I suggested that this time we lay wormy to rest in the garden, not really a garden per se, but a spot that we try to hold the weeds back long enough for a couple of tomatoe plants to yield their fruit. On the way I told Christian that God didn't give worms a long life, but that thier life was important short as it was. They were drillers...their job was to drill holes in the ground to allow rain to get to the roots of the trees and flowers, and that when they died they would decompose and become food for the plants so they would grow big and strong. He asked me,"Dad, what does decompose mean?.." I explained that when one dies and is laid in the ground the body just kinda breaks up into many pieces and becomes part of the dirt. "Dad..." yea son... "Are the tommatoes gonna taste like worms?"... I hope not son. A couple of weeks had passed. Bill O'Connor, a very good client had passed away. I wanted to go to the funeral home and pay my respects... Lisa was going to meet me there after Christian's karate class. Standing in the rear of the viewing room, with a fully garbed little ninja next to me... "Dad ?...Can we go look at him??" Sure son, so I took his hand and we made our way to the front of the casket. I asked Christian if he remembered Bill, he said he thought so. "He looks peaceful doesn't he." "Yea but he's not sleeping is he Dad." "No son, he's dead..they're going to bury him in the morning." Now I haven't been 5 for a very long while, I have forgotten how the imformation received at that age is processed. As we turned to rejoin Lisa in the rear of the parlor, in front of the widow and family...and loud enough to be heard...he asks, "Dad..is he gonna decompose JUST like wormy?"..................
let's go home son.
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