Monday, June 7, 2010
My son and I had dental appointments today, so I could spend only about an hour at the Soldiers Home. But it was a wonderful Mike hour.
For one thing, he was in his room when I got there. For another, he had yet to touch his lunch, and I had brought him one of his favorites, a Fruit & Walnut Salad from McDonald’s. (Have to admit, it did look slightly more tempting than the sweet ‘n’ sour pork on his tray.)
I asked Mike how his weekend was.
"One of the best ever," he said. He was seriously beaming.
His son and granddaughter visited, and they simply could not have picked a nicer weekend. On a rare and perfectly sunny Saturday, the three Marquies went fishing, and Mike’s teenaged granddaughter was in charge of the pole.
"She’s a good caster and reeler," Mike said. But she is a teenaged girl, and when a bee landed on her, she freaked. The pole flew into the pond.
"She felt just horrible about it," Mike said. His son wasn’t too happy, either, but he drove to the outdoors store downtown and bought a replacement rod and reel. He also brought back some grappling hooks and secured them on a stick with some of Mike’s extra line.
With the first toss of the hook-stick, they caught a keeper: Mike’s original fishing pole—with a fish hooked on the end of its line.
"It’s a good thing there were witnesses," Mike laughed. "Because nobody believes it!"
Mike could not stop smiling.
They caught tons of trout, Mike said. His son took pictures, and an eagle swooped down to claim a fish for his nestmate. Mike’s son brought back food, and they ate and laughed and relived the fish story that’s almost too good to be true.
Except it is.
"You must be beat," I said, possibly kind of beaming myself.
"Oh, man. I am beat," Mike said.
"But it’s a good kind of beat," I said.
"The best," Mike said. "Just the best ever."
My son and I had dental appointments today, so I could spend only about an hour at the Soldiers Home. But it was a wonderful Mike hour.
For one thing, he was in his room when I got there. For another, he had yet to touch his lunch, and I had brought him one of his favorites, a Fruit & Walnut Salad from McDonald’s. (Have to admit, it did look slightly more tempting than the sweet ‘n’ sour pork on his tray.)
I asked Mike how his weekend was.
"One of the best ever," he said. He was seriously beaming.
His son and granddaughter visited, and they simply could not have picked a nicer weekend. On a rare and perfectly sunny Saturday, the three Marquies went fishing, and Mike’s teenaged granddaughter was in charge of the pole.
"She’s a good caster and reeler," Mike said. But she is a teenaged girl, and when a bee landed on her, she freaked. The pole flew into the pond.
"She felt just horrible about it," Mike said. His son wasn’t too happy, either, but he drove to the outdoors store downtown and bought a replacement rod and reel. He also brought back some grappling hooks and secured them on a stick with some of Mike’s extra line.
With the first toss of the hook-stick, they caught a keeper: Mike’s original fishing pole—with a fish hooked on the end of its line.
"It’s a good thing there were witnesses," Mike laughed. "Because nobody believes it!"
Mike could not stop smiling.
They caught tons of trout, Mike said. His son took pictures, and an eagle swooped down to claim a fish for his nestmate. Mike’s son brought back food, and they ate and laughed and relived the fish story that’s almost too good to be true.
Except it is.
"You must be beat," I said, possibly kind of beaming myself.
"Oh, man. I am beat," Mike said.
"But it’s a good kind of beat," I said.
"The best," Mike said. "Just the best ever."
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