the taming of the mouth
Monday, November 30 
Last summer Middle Son carried his guitar while longboarding downtown where he would play and sing for tips.
“I’m your bad son,” Middle Son has said to me before. It worries me to hear him say this. Have I unwittingly contributed to his self-perception in some way? I ask him why he thinks this. “Because I’m the only one who gets zero periods or has gotten in-school suspension.”
That part’s true. Middle Son does face negative consequences more than his brothers. He’s smart, stubborn, likes attention and has a strong sense of justice. Justice fuels his belief that if an adult speaks disrespectfully to him, then they’ve fully earned his wrath in return.
Alrighty, then.
We’re working on this. On why sometimes it makes better sense to put your head down and keep your mouth shut — even if someone is being rude to you.
I remind Middle Son that he is also my only son who recently (on his own) helped make 1,000 paper cranes for a woman he didn’t know who tragically died, volunteered to help with the Special Olympics and helped make a scrapbook for a friend whose mother died.
It’s this compassion he’s always had that explains why the phone rang last week during Thanksgiving dinner. A call we wouldn’t normally let Middle Son answer during a family meal, except…
Back up a bit. Three years ago, when Middle Son was in fifth grade — when the principal called me because he’d organized a student riot against the playground teachers for “being unfair” — I also received a call from his teacher.
A new boy had moved in and was being outed by the other fifth graders, she explained. Jonah was mentally sluggish and physically heavy, lived in a trailer with his mom and many siblings; his dad was in prison. “Your boy tells the other kids — even his own buddies — not to make fun of Jonah,” she said. “Not only that, he asks to be Jonah’s partner for every partner activity we have.”
Jonah’s family were drifters, and they moved to Florida at the end of the school year. We didn’t hear from him again. Then this past summer, Jonah called Middle Son out of the blue. “I’m so glad I found you and that this is your number!” he told Middle Son. “Listen! I’m moving back to Bozeman.”
He explained to Middle Son that the kids at his junior high had been so cruel that his mother had pulled him out of school with the intention of home-schooling him. But then she gave birth to triplets, and several of his brothers went to jail for various reasons. She promised Jonah that they could move back to Bozeman, and Jonah was so out-of-his-mind-happy that he began calling Middle Son multiple times a day.
But then seventh grade started, and Jonah wasn’t here. He called from Pennsylvania, said his mother had changed her mind and they’d moved to Pennsylvania instead. The hopeful boy on the other end of the line was gone, and the calls came infrequently.
Then Jonah called on Thanksgiving while Middle Son was gone. When Middle Son came home I told him to call Jonah, but when he dialed, the man on the other end of the line yelled, “Wrong number! No Jonah here, dude,” and hung up.
Jonah called back ten minutes later while we were eating. He apologized to Middle Son for the earlier call, explaining that his big brother and a buddy were just drunk and fooling around when they’d grabbed the phone and yelled.
When Middle Son came back to the table I could see that he was upset. “Jonah says he’s moving to New Orleans next week.”
This whole situation with Jonah has reminded me how sometimes our weaknesses are also our greatest strengths. Next time the school principal calls to say, “Once Again Your Son’s Mouth Runneth Over,” I’ll talk to Middle Son again about self-control, respecting people who don’t respect you…and I’ll remember the good he's done and can do in the world if I can just figure out how to help him channel this part of himself.
Middle Son's sense of humor was tested this past September when we surprised him on his 13th birthday with a Hello Kitty-themed party. Here Shawn presents Middle Son's cake as we sing to him.
END NOTE: I know Middle Son has learned compassion in part from all the good men in his life. No clue where he got The Mouth from.
*Also, thanks to all who were able to cast a vote for my last post which was entered in The Great Experiment this past weekend. I didn't win, but enjoyed being a part. Congratulations to Digital Bath and Crummy Mummy for their tie for first place — an inspiring testimony to powerful writing!
Reader Comments (14)
Compassion is rare and beautiful. Whatever package it comes in is a good one. I LOVE that you're not sure where the mouth comes from ;) I wonder that about my Princess, too!
What a wonderful tribute to your son. He will be a great adult if he survives the gauntlet of childhood. mbp
I will never forget my first trip to meet y'all. Middle Son was all of 2. We were sleeping in the (very cold) basement when I opened my eyes to see him staring at me, perfectly at eye level with my bleary eyes. Big smile, obviously waiting for us to get UP! I've felt especially close to him from that moment.
He reminds me so much of myself. And if that's truly the case, expect more calls from school.
Tell Middle Son that he is a fabulous young man with a heart bigger than his mouth. Which is pretty big, eh?
Thanks, all!
And BrotherJohn, I actually love it that you say Middle Son reminds you of yourself at his age. It calms me :)
Your description of Middle Son does sound a lot like Brother John. And that's a good thing and bodes well for the future. But watch out for the teen years.
This tribute to my nephew warms my heart. What a wonderful thougtful boy. He will learn how to channel his energy correctly. The powerful thing is that he is doing something positive at such a young age because of his sense of justice and compassion. This year a student protest on the playground next year a protest to save t he whales. Who knows but the important thing is the kid has guts.
Dammit, I forgot to vote! I hope you didn't lose by 1!
I could vote on where Middle Son got his mouth, though...
Middle Son's big heart reminds me of Only Son (mine). Must have been something in the air in Eugene in the Fall of '96.
BrotherJohnsSis: Forever I've heard this lore of John in his youth...Next time I'm in Florida we must gather and swap stories. ( I want to know what I'm in for...)
SDA: Yeah, I was feeling all warm and fuzzy with this post and then -- no lie -- got a call from Middle Son's gym teacher today. Seems he's not so into gym these days. On his student evaluation he answered the question "What are your goals for gym class?" by writing, "I don't have any." When I talked to him about being disrespectful he said, "But I didn't want to LIE!!"
Ray: No, unfortunately I didn't lose by one vote, I got stomped! Hoo-boy. Thanks for your comment. I so wish we lived closer to you guys so we could know your boy...I still have baby Evan as my mental image of him :)
roflol So things are kept in perspective huh, that is so funny. Tell him I would have written the same thing. At least he does not lie to get out of Gym . We are still in his corner cheering him and his brothers on .
Didn't Middle Son come up with the moniker "Brother John"?? Cosmic, indeed!!
Megan, You are such an amazing writer. I've just spent the last 45 minutes of my alone time catching up on your blog. So entertaining and so much truth.
BTW, do you know Steve Jones? he's my uncle and lives in Bozeman.
Hey Lisa, thanks so much! I don't know Steve, but I'll keep an ear out for him! This town is small enough that it's likely I'll cross paths with him at some point...
(I'm still chuckling about your son's hair... awesome. And such a good sport to let you photograph your handiwork along the way.)
The mouth part IS a bit puzzling, isn't it? As well as his sense of justice and what is right? Uh huh.
I ADORE that you surprised him with a Hello Kitty party. That ROCKS and is totally something I would do. Which is why it rocks.
I love that he stood up for Jonah. What a wonderful person you have birthed.