Friends move with winds of time

T. Gamble

T. Gamble

The little 7-year-old hurricane boy is sad.

There is nothing much worse than seeing a sad hurricane. If this continues, he might become a tropical depression.

He's sad because one of his good friends may not be returning to his school next year. I was trying to soothe his feelings and explained to him that in the first grade I had a very good friend who moved away. He asked, "Did you go visit your friend when he moved away?"

I explained that I did not know where my friend had moved. He then asked if I called him on the phone. I further explained since I did not know where he moved, I did not know how to call him.

He said, "Well why didn't you just look him up in the phone book?" I again explained without knowing the town, I couldn't look him up in the phone book and this was way before Google and other devices existed to try and find people.

He seemed perplexed and said, "Well, dad, do you think you would be friends with him today if you saw him?" I said I might be friends if I saw him, who knows? He then said, "Well, what if you saw him now and he was fat, bald, and wore glasses? Would you still be friends with him then?"

Man, I don't know if he was talking about the friend or me. Bald, fat, and wearing glasses. I just laughed and told him I'd still try to be his friend and the hurricane thought that was funny and began to laugh.

I didn't bother to tell him that there would be many more times when friends would move, girlfriends would decide to date other people and the pet dog would run away never to be seen again. I didn't really have time, as 15 minutes later sadness had been replaced by a new game of killing zombies and plans to attend the Infantry Museum in Columbus.

I promised the hurricane I would take him to the Infantry Museum if he performed to a certain level academically in school. Unlike the princess girl, hurricane is motivated only by reward. He made the grade and now I need to take him to the museum.

At the same time, the little hurricane has been recently lifting weights with me. I bought him a weight bench and he's been benching weights and is all into it. I have no idea whether he is able to build muscle at 7 years old but, hell, it hasn't stopped me from trying to build muscle at 52 years old and I am pretty sure I already know the answer as to whether or not that works for me.

Anyway, he's been intent on working out every other day and makes certain I go with him. That's been a good thing. Finally, the other day, however, he said, "Daddy, when are we going to the Infantry Museum?" I said we'll probably be going in a few weeks and he looked a little distraught. I said, "What's wrong?"

He said, "Well, I've got to really work out hard if it's only in a few weeks. I need to look really buff when we go to the museum in Columbus."

Who knew the hurricane thought he needed to look buff to go to the museum? I guess I'm going to try and be buff, too. Maybe we need to schedule the visit a little later, perhaps Christmas holidays.