Whoa! Didja get the numbers off that truck?!?


February 19, 2005 - 9:57 p.m.

Subtext

Since this is a venue of contact for a rare few, I must say this:   Please listen hear

Jeremy's visit

Last time I saw Jeremy, he was ten years old.  Jeremy is an intensly brilliant person. I could see it, even through the "hyperactive disorder" he "suffered from."  Jeremy's mother is in many ways a beautiful person; but a terrible mother for Jeremy.  What I saw in Jeremy was intense concentration and an astute ability to multitask, in this way making the most of his "affliction."

Jeremy also inherited a paternal gift of hot temper.  I could also see that intertwined in reactions with his mother.  Jeremy rarely did well under the stern gaze of his anal retentive mom.  She did things by the absolute book, including feedings when he was but a few days old.

Jeremy was gifted with twin sisters when he was about two.  That took the heat off quite a bit.  He was still pretty much on the hook with mom, and I think he used it to his advantage more than once to turn the attention to him and away from his twin sisters.  Mom still kept the clamps pretty tightly bound to Jeremy.

Jeremy discovered music.  He got a guitar and started playing it.  His first love was always video games: they were puzzles challenging enough for his intelligence.  No "attention deficit disorder" in this regard, his focus was so intense a genade could explode nearby, he would be focused on catching the mushroom.

The guitar really captured his creative spirit.  He practiced long hours, losing track of time in the process.  He got really good at it.

The conflicts continued.  He was involved with a church youth group, they played music too, it gave him someone to practice against.  He thrived in this group, they were going to Nicaragua on a mission.  He was set to go, he was working on his letters of committment to his sponsors one May afternoon when another conflict between him and his parents commenced.  It was yet another episode of button pushing, each knew the respective weaknesses of each other: Jeremy, Mom and Dad.

It culminated in the kitchen.  Mom loved the Country Look, so there were always baskets of this and that lying about.  They were in the kitchen in a shouting match; Jeremy and his mom.  He lost his temper and lobbed a basket full of nail clippers and manicure scissors in her general direction.  This was nothing new, Jeremy had often a shoe of other object flung in his direction whilst scurrying up the stairs after a skirmish.

The basket flew, emptying its contents onto mom.  She suffered a minor puncture wound and a major impact on pride and family order.  He was taller than her, a lanky lean product of exact precision feeding schedules while very young.  But he'd thrown something at her and she was outraged.  Dad appeared at about this time on the tail end of the conflict.  He had an itchy dialing finger and he used it in dialing 911.  My son is assaulting his mother.  Send a sqad.

What dad didn't know at that moment is that when you start the process of "processing your kids" they enter a system over which you won't have control.  Especially when you live in a town of about 20K population with the human embodiment of Chief Wiggum enforcing the local law.  Add to the mix a warm May afternoon with not a lot to do.  He was calmly sitting on the couch when the squads (three) descended on the crime scene, bracelets at the ready.  They cuffed him first off, and hauled him upstairs to shake down his room.  The perp they had this day was not the drug addled teenager they'd seen in their training films.  He was a normal kid.

They loaded him in the back sans shoes.  He had shorts and undershirt on.  They hauled him to the county lockup, where he spent 26 hours in a fully concrete room where the lights were on all the time.  Despite his seventeen years he was tossed in with the drunks and the addicts and petty thieves.  They kept their distance; what could be going on in the mind of a skinny kid with a scruffy beard?  He must be crazy.

He copped to "disturbing the peace" and owed a $75.00 fine.  He was also not allowed to be around his mom for a year, he took up residence at his grandmother's place.  He finished high school and is back to living in mom and dad's house, but not for long.  He's moving to his aunt's basement.  She's much "cooler."

The Jeremy I saw last night still has the essence of what I knew ten years ago, it's been tempered with maturity.  It's been three years since that event.  I was impressed with what I saw in him, he seems to have grown into his own skin.  The confidence of years has turned him into a balanced kid.  I think he'll be just fine.








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