Saturday afternoon, me and my boys decided we wanted to go to one of the local parks for an hour or two. One thing we needed to do, though, before heading to the park, was stop by the home of one of Calfgrit10’s friends. The friend had left a couple toys at our house a few days ago, and we needed to return them.

So we loaded up in my truck and headed out. As we pulled into the friend’s driveway, I asked my boys if they’d like to invite the friend to come to the park with us. Calfgrit6 immediately said, “Yes,” but Calfgrit10 thought for a moment and said, “No, not today.” I have no idea why he said no.

Calgrit10 and I got out of the truck and walked up to the friend’s front door and knocked. When the friend and his mom answered, we talked for a few moments, and then the friend said, “You want to stay and play with me?”

“Yes!” Calfgrit10 said, enthusiastically.

The friend asked his mom, “Can Calfgrit10 stay and play?”

“Sure, if it’s alright with his dad,” she answered.

So I left CG10 there and went back to the truck. When I got in, I told Calfgrit6 that his brother was going to stay and play with the friend for a while. The look of disappointment that crossed his face broke my heart. He said, “I wanted to play with Calfgrit10 at the park.”

I’d made a big mistake. Damn. “I’ll play with you at the park,” I offered as consolation.

“Okay,” he said with a sign. “You’ll play tag with me?”

“Yes,” I assured him.

He still had a hang-dog look, so I tried to think of something we could do together that we might not normally get to do. Nothing like that came to mind immediately, but, not surprisingly to anyone who knows me, I did have the idea for us to go get ice cream together. “How about we go get some ice cream? Just you and me?” He said yes, but the idea didn’t seem to cheer him up much.

After picking up ice cream from Cold Stone, we went on to the park — the “dragon park,” which we named for this fixture:

At the park Calfgrit6 and I played tag all over the place. All around the three play areas, all up and in the play sets, up and down the ladders, poles, ramps, steps, and chains. How can a little guy half my height run me so ragged? He has to make three strides to my one, and he has to climb where I can just jump, but still, he could just keep going and going and going. I was worn slap out.

Granted, I got a bit competitive with my little opponent, jumping and climbing just short of performing parkour — I’m in a bit more athletic form compared to what I used to be. So, really, I wore myself out where I could have mostly coasted through the games of tag.

We played for over two hours, straight. Calfgrit6 screamed and laughed, I screamed and laughed, and I think he completely forgot that I had broken up his planned play time with his brother. Until we were walking out of the park back to my truck. We walked along the sidewalk, holding hands, and he said, “This was fun, daddy. Can we pick up Calfgrit10 and bring him here and play some more?”

I said, “How about we pick up Calfgrit10 and then go to CiCi’s for pizza?”

“Yeah,” he said, “that would be better. I’m getting hungry.”

Bullgrit

Continued from here.

It’s been right many years since I’ve seen The Sons of Katie Elder, but I could remember most of it. Strangely, though, I couldn’t remember how it ends. Turned out I did actually remember the ending, I just didn’t realize the John Wayne Western ending I remembered was for this movie. They’ve all kind of gotten a bit jumbled in my memory over the years.

Before the movie started, Calfgrit10 asked me about Westerns:

“Is that where they have the guns that they have to click to make them shoot?” he asked.

“Yes, they have to pull the hammer back before they pull the trigger to shoot it.” I explained. “It’s called single action. . .” and I explained how they work.

“And they use those rifles with the handle underneath?” he asked. He sort of mimed the action of a lever under a rifle.

“Yep, that’s called a lever action,” I explained, and I described what that action does mechanically.

He was remembering the time I took him out shooting guns with my father and brother, (and brogrit’s girlfriend).  He shot my dad’s single action revolver that day.

I inherited that .357 revolver, as well as a lever action .30-.30, when my dad passed. They’re up hidden in my office now. While Calfgrit10 and I were discussing the weapons of Western movies, I had the urge to go get the guns and show him. I wanted to say, “You know, I have a couple of those kinds of guns. Let me show you.” But, that’s too close to, “Hey, you wanna see my dad’s guns?” But those words are dreadfully dangerous. So I put the thought away. I could show him in a more appropriately reverent and calm moment some time later outside the excitement of movie time.

We watched the movie, and he seemed to enjoy it. He didn’t get up from the sofa with me, and he didn’t talk about other things during the scenes. That’s signs that he was engrossed in the experience, just like me.

Afterward, he said he liked the movie, and would be interested in seeing another Western with me some time. Great. I wish we could have watched the movie with my dad, and had three generations of us men loving a Western at the same time. That would have been cool. My dad would have really enjoyed that.

Bullgrit

This tumbling tumbleweed came rolling through our cul de sac. I’ve never seen a tumbleweed “live” before. I wonder if it migrated all the way from Texas?

Bullgrit

I survived my bout with whatever bug was ravaging my body this week. I went back to work Thursday. Since all I do at work is sit in front of a computer, I only need a clear mind, not a strong body. And with the fever gone, my mind was clear. My body can just catch up while I’m productive.

Sick days ain’t as fun as I remember they used to be. I remember sitting on the couch, watching TV, taking naps, and generally relaxing on sick days. This time, though, my sick days sucked.

I spent most hours of the day in misery. But even for those few hours, (in the morning), when my temperature dipped down below the delirious level, I was too freakin’ exhausted from the high-fever tossing and turning and trembling and not sleeping to do anything rambunctious like getting out of bed and walking down the stairs to the couch and big TV. Hell, it was an effort to lay in bed and click the remote for the little* TV in our bedroom.

There was nothing of any interest to me on TV during the day, anyway. I swear, cable gives us hundreds of channels, (of which I only ever tune into maybe a half dozen over a month’s time), but I ended up spending a couple hours in a row literally just surfing through the channels, maybe stopping on one for just long enough to determine, no, this show ain’t actually going to get interesting.

On Wednesday, Calfgrit10 stayed home from school because he said he wasn’t feeling good. We immediately thought he might have picked up whatever I had, (we’re a sharing family), but he never actually got real sick. And I was just starting to move into recovery from my nasty bug. So while Calfgrit6 went to school, (as “unfair” as he said it was), and Cowgrit did her volunteer thing at the school, my oldest boy and I were left to our own pathetic devices.

It shows just how tired and worn out I was that my first thought wasn’t that we could sit and watch some movies together that day. It took a few hours, nigh on to lunch time before the idea came to me. When the light bulb did go off above my head, I started mentally going through the list of my** movies I had tucked back in the TV cabinet.

There are several in my stash that immediately jump right out at me as obvious, and that I definitely want to watch with my boys, (Spaceballs, Ghostbusters, Aliens, Hawk the Slayer). But then I remembered a set of John Wayne DVDs that I recently brought home from my dad’s house. My dad and I were both big fans of The Duke, and we used to love watching his Westerns together. I decided this might be a fun tradition to introduce to Calfgrit10, who had never before seen a Western. And this sick day together is the only extended period of time we’ve had with each other, (without the littler boy), since he’s become old enough to watch with me. So I pulled out The Sons of Katie Elder.

To be continued. . .

Bullgrit

* “Little” — my how times (technology, economics) change. Our bedroom TV is a 26″ flatscreen up on top of the chest-o-drawers. When I was young, if we had a TV at all in a bedroom, it would have been a 12″ black and white CRT, (with NO REMOTE!).

** “My” — My movies are a collection of the really cool stuff that Calfgrit6 isn’t yet old enough for, Calfgrit10 hasn’t had time with me without his little brother to see, and Cowgrit doesn’t at all care about. These are separate from the family movies that Cowgrit exclusively picks out.