I'm Not Afraid of a Six Year Old

About three years ago, my friends Ben and Annie Howington moved from beautiful, industrial Brooklyn to beautiful, metropolitan Raleigh, North Carolina.  With them, they took Lila Howington and my best friend, Jack Howington.  Jack was three and I was almost 30 but we found our maturity level was about the same. That's me and Jack this summer.

Me and Jack's best friendship came to a grinding halt once he moved next to Max, his same age cousin.  Suddenly, Jack stopped writing letters. ( And by letters, I mean alphabet letters.  He would just send me a crayon drawn "B" or "K". ) Jack stopped calling me on his fake cell phone.  He stopped giving me recaps of Dora and as a result my Spanish suffered.

Because of Max. Stupid little Max and his stupid cute smile and his stupid friendly disposition.  I wrote some letters to him trying to convince him to defriend Jack.  You can see evidence of them here.  But it didn't work. They remained best friends.  And I had to hang out with adults. Until I found another child, Pete, to share my interest in trains, destruction, and general naughtiness.

Well, now Max has moved away from Jack. To LONG ISLAND.  We have started our correspondence again.  Here is the message I received on Facebook.

Annie Howington said she was coming to NEW YORK to visit her "FAVORITES".  Max wrote:

James. 


"Favorites" will always equal Colliers in the Howington eyes. I'm pretty sure I won this argument 3 years ago but whateves. Just want you to know there will be no bad blood between us this weekend. I'm mature now.


 Heart, Max






Well, here's my response to that, Gluteus Maximus.




Dear Max,


Everyone from New York knows that when people talk about visiting New York they never mean Long Island. That's just the vestigial tail of New York.  Oh, what's up? You don't know the word "Vestigial"? Why? Because you go to some kind of dumb kids school? Some sort of dummies' schoo....


I've just been informed that you're in Kindergarten.  Because you're only six.  I take it back.  I bet you're head of the class in naps and dinosaur recognition.  I would never impugn the name of Kindergarten.


But you're still only six.  You can't vote.  You can't buy dynamite.  You couldn't be President even if you passed the Presidential Candidate test.  Which is hard. And mostly consists of questions like: 1) Should a President always be rich?  2) Is Vermont technically a state? 


Here's a hint.  Number 2 is no.  It's a suburb of New Hampshire.


See? I'm off topic. Because you drive me crazy!  I'm soooo glad that you're still best friends with Jack. It doesn't bother me at all.  Oh wait. That's sarcasm.  You don't get it because that's a higher brain function.  You need to eat something more complicated than mac n cheese to grow those kind of synapses.  You need to cut up some hot dogs in there, bro!


Let's review things you can do for Jack.  Buy him a matchbox car.  Well, isn't that special?  Because I can buy him a real car.  And I'll let him drive it, too.  Because I'm an ADULT.  And I'm IRRESPONSIBLE. And I will totally LIE TO HIS PARENTS ABOUT WHY WE WE'RE GOING TO THE ABANDONED STATE FAIR PARKING LOT.


It's so he can drive.  Did you put that together?  No? Is it because it's called Deductive Reasoning, Max? Can you say that?  Hold on. I've just been informed that six year olds can actually talk and say complex words fairly easily.


Fine, Max.  You're not going to win.  I'm an adult.  I'm superior.  I can run for mayor of your town and pass laws that all kids named Max have to change their names to even dumber names.  Like Snakebutt. And Barnaclepants.  I will do that, Max.  I will move to your town and start an aggressive campaign to be mayor.  Just to pass silly laws that hurt you.


Stay way from Jack.  Write him a letter post-haste explaining how you hate him now.  Tell him you're best friends with a girl now.  That'll show him.  And I'll scoop in with the used Nissan Sentra I bought him. Red. With battle damage.  From a really cool accident.


Suck it, Max.  I hope you cry.  Like a six year old baby.  And I've just been informed that six year olds have tear glands so you physically are able.




I'm happiest when you're sad,


James Best

A Girl Named Edie Has Come to Visit

On the 1st of October, we met a little girl at a hospital.  We named her Edith.  Because we thought it was pretty.  And maybe kind of a grandma name.  But sometimes names have to be reclaimed.

She goes by Edie.  So far she doesn't have much to say. We mostly interpret.

DISLIKES

Being changed
Not eating
Pacifiers
Having her arms restricted
Sleeping at night
The pediatrician's office
The Eagles

LIKES

Nirvana
Listening to me and Val read poetry to her
Grandma Rosemary
Eating all the time
Her bouncy chair
My pinky finger as a pacifier
Sleeping when we're awake
Hobo Jokes
Time Travel Paradoxes

Here's some things she loves though.

Edie loves traffic.  We live on 4th Ave, a major thoroughfare in Brooklyn.  For those people who live in places of large silences, it's hard to appreciate how calming the sea rhythms of traffic are.  Edie and I share a love for this.  There's a chair and ottoman Valerie positioned near our avenue window so she could enjoy the noise.  I have stolen it for myself and Edie.  She likes to find a place in my chest to sleep, usually using my finger as a pacifier.  It's amazing to watch her body relaxing into contentment as she gets closer to the window.  Valerie will cradle and rock her to the noise. The waves of cars.  The metal ocean.

Edie loves Valerie.  I knew this would happen.  The biological thing. The connection due to birth, contact, and feeding.  But it's something different to watch.  I know newborns can't smile.  But when Valerie holds her, Edie's whole body becomes a smile.  I don't know much about baby science (frankly, I don't care, I'd rather accept it as mystery) and I don't know whether a baby registers a person by touch, voice, smell, the way they are held but she knows Valerie.  As soon as she meets her hands, Edie's whole frame is a sigh.

If Life Gives You Lemons, Make Haiku

For non-Brooklynites, these take a little intro. The BQE is an elevated highway, hideous and inspiring running like a gray ribbon between those boroughs. Sufjan Stevens wrote a whole symphony about it. It's an eyesore and frustrating to drive on and your only option and wonderful and unique to Brooklyn.

The Gowanus Canal is the filthiest piece of water in America. It's a national health hazard and the EPA has stepped in. The bottom is covered with shopping carts and rusting iron. The top is floating with grease and algae that has living samples of gonorrhea in it. That's right. You could get an STD from swimming in it. Also a baby whale got stuck in it once and was cut apart by the metal maze in the water. Very sad.

I wanted to write some romantic verse about them.

Haiku for the Gowanus and the Brooklyn Queens Expressway, Winter 2011

1
Brooklyn winter breaks
slow as iron in water
hide me Gowanus

2
night traffic mezzo
headlights point home, cars yawning
circling for some sleep

3
the moon on dimmer
how needy the limbs of night
caught in wan spotlight

4
canal full of eyes
bodies adrift in freezeless sleep
I will find you all

5
great grey artery
if I cut you, would you spill
all your red riders

6
whale catcher, release
or clench, keep your dinner tight
be jealous of now

7
canal means lost vein
the moon said it could mean much
the moon is bloodless