Matt and Hil. We got your phone messages yesterday but we’re starved for more information!
I hired one of Matt’s best friends, Chris Grosjean, for the summer. He’s a strapping lad, requires no breaks and very little fuel, complains not at all, and works like mule, which is to say, you have to tell him it’s time to stop otherwise the sun would set, the stars would appear and he’d still be hoisting beams or staining decks.
He did, however, let me in on a secret today. He said the work he does for me gets him out of cutting the grass on weekends. I laughed and told him I saw his dad, John, cutting the grass on Sunday and he replied, “He needs the exercise.†Sharp, smart words from an equally sharp boy. Anyway, we have fun – okay, maybe only I have fun – and I learn tons of interesting things about his life and the lives of his friends.
Such as what is the primary entry door into their houses. Ever had a conversation with anyone about such a thing? Probably not, but here in Acton it’s not as strange as it sounds. Joy Hertz once told me that if someone rings the front door bell she knows it’s a salesman and she doesn’t answer it. Chris listed every friend and the door they used, and not once did he say front door. The closest he came was, “The secondary front door.†I think this topic came up after we had stained someone out of their condo.
Without disclosing anything of a personal nature that might get Chris in trouble, some of the other topics we’ve touched on include: his primary and secondary friends, the parents he used to consider scary, all kinds of baseball related things (readers of the blog and friends of Chris know he is an accomplished athlete with hopes of pitching in the majors), the uptight locals who call the police for the most trivial of transgressions (yes, a reference to Matt, Chris and their friends will appear AGAIN in the local paper under the police blotter), his grades, how much he studies, and of course how brave Matt and Hil are to have traveled to Nicaragua.
Which leads me to the latest news about my son. At 3 PM my cell phone beeped to announce I had missed a call. Instead of the usual display of the time and the calling number, it said — UNKNOWN 12 AM 1/1/00 .
Chris and I were both convinced it was Matt, which made me feel real good. Send my only born off to a foreign land and then make it impossible to get a hold of us. Bad enough that he was back in school, had no access to hot showers or video games, and was surely feeling isolated because of a lack of a common language, but then to be unavailable when he needed me most. Do I sound self-pitying or just pitiful? Chris wondered why Matt didn’t leave his usual message, “Dad, you never answer your cell phone!†However, Chris also assured me that there would be a message on my machine at home, and sure enough there was.
I played it multiple times, happy to hear his deep voice sounding like a self assured twenty-three year old. Here it is, almost verbatim:
“Anybody there, hello. Mother, Father. Well I’m trying to call now and we can’t find phones that work much less get out to America so I don’t know how often I’ll be able to call. Umm we arrived in Esteli safe and sound so everything is all set. We actually made a friend in the airport. Aaah… and we might be staying with them in Managua for a weekend or something. We’ll try to set up an email address so we can send you some email. I’ll try calling back when it’s convenient. Love you guys, bye.†Click!
Diane is out tonight enjoying dinner with her long time social work group, but you know I had to call and relay Matt’s message. I know how much better Diane is going to feel knowing that Matt and Hil met some stranger in Managua, the only town he was warned to stay out of, and that he’s going to be spending his weekends there. What a chip off the old block.
Chris’ only demand, that he be driven from job site to job site in this chair atop my truck.
