Coin Boy prepares for real life

Coin Boy prepares for real life


(He's been faking it up until now)

This week it's hard for me to maneuver across the keyboard of my laptop due to the sea of tears flowing from my beady eyes. I am feeling depressed, lonely and worried all at once with a bit of joy thrown in for good measure.

I'm sure you are assuming that my feelings have to do with all of the issues facing Uncle Sam but you are WRONG—as our dear leader loves to say. (I couldn't help but make one allusion to the Orange One.)

About a year ago I penned a piece about The Child (my son) leaving the nest only to land next door at Mother's house. She actually insisted upon this and it has been good for all—or most involved. This year it's totally official in that he is really exiting the “compound” and will come to rest in the Florida Keys. He has a job waiting for him upon arrival, just in case you were wondering.

For those who might not recall, The Child penned a piece for this award-winning publication “back in the day” called “Coin Corner.” He is also the one who compiled the Birthdays and History section of the paper, which is still in use today.

I'm not sure how entertaining this column will be because I'm going to do something that drives me crazy when others do it but I must. I will now reflect on all things The Child including, but not limited to, how “adorbs” he was in his youth. I shall then drive all in my path to drink by stressing how smart, handsome, witty, wise and fun he is.

For those who did not crumple up the paper and whip it aside whilst stomping away from your reading perch, I thank you and shall continue at this time.

Back when he compiled the birthdays and history jazz for the Community News, he was around 10 or 11. During that time he would look up the sites on the computer and then copy the information into a notebook. This process took hours at a time because half of the words were not in his vocabulary. (I saved all of those notebooks because I'm super sentimental. I do NOT inherit this from Mother. When I moved off to Houston in 1993, she said she stood in my room and burst into tears for about 10 min. After that she immediately drew up pie charts and architecture plans in order to convert my bedroom into a dressing room and PRONTO! Did I just digress and in these little old brackets? That last part must be said with a southern accent in your heads.)

Getting back to The Child and his copying down info, when he finished I would take over at that point in terms of typing and submitting. Isn't that precious? Can you picture it unfolding? Are you ready to spew forth green substances from just reading this silly stuff?

Another super darling memory is how he used to zoom about the pool area (Mother filled the pool in several years ago) in one of those cars for kids. It was a green vehicle that had a floor for younger kids and then one could remove that when the tot was old enough to drop his/her feet to the ground in order to propel the object. (Think of Fred Flintstone.) His little feet would launch “his car” around and around the pool with speed and agility. Is your heart melting yet? Can you see this happening? Are you ready to shoot me dead?

Moving on to his teen years if I must, this is when the adorable factor kind of faded, more or less. I'm thinking this was around the age of 13 or 14 but I've tried to erase the memories. He was OK but a bit mouthy and kind of a rebel with a cause sort-of-deal. Now that I ponder, I don't want to salute this brat any longer. Oh simmer down as I'm just kidding. Good gravy it's getting difficult to present this weekly blather when some don't understand sarcasm.

Where was I? Oh the teen years; in all seriousness he was a fairly good teen other than the awkward times of the early stages, as mentioned above. He actually participated in many of the Historical Society festivities and was the youngest member for a long time. Typing that part reminded me of when Conneaut Lake had the Sesquicentennial (I spelled that right on the FIRST try) celebration and he and a cute chick carried the banner in the parade. For this he had to dress like Paul Revere including donning that triangle hat, white “hose” and the whole getup. I'm cracking up now because I recall how humiliated he was.

I remember when he had his first love clear over in Coalport PA and we'd travel over to visit. (He was 15 then so he couldn't drive.) I would tow the camping jazz behind the original hippie van and park my hammock at Prince Gallitzin State Park. Oh it was simply lovely.

When it came time to graduate from school, The Child went for the GED but also worked at earning a diploma from a REAL live school district, not a fake one. (I have no clue what I even meant by that. I guess the point is that he earned both a GED and the literal diploma.) He performed extra work in order to carry this out and was rewarded by being named valedictorian. When he gave the address to the audience I was super moved and boiling hot, now that I reflect. Sorry, yet another digression but boy was that room “close” as they used to say. I'm sweating just reflecting on this whole sordid saga. I'm going to miss that fella. I think Mother might be the most upset since they are “roomies” currently. She lets him get away with stuff I could have NEVER done in my youth. I shall illustrate with this one example.

When he turned 21 he had a gathering of celebration in the garage. In order to fully experience the coming of age event, he morphed the garage into something kind of hard to describe—but when did that ever stop me?

He and his friends had one of those YUGE inflatable snowmen, that one might see whilst driving about the countryside during the holiday season, blown up IN the garage. OMZ (Oh my Zeus) did I just say “holiday” instead of Christmas?? “Gird your loins” (mind out of gutter as it's from the Bible) because the “War on Christmas” just crept into an April column. (Forgive my stranger than usual behavior in this column space. I'm more scatterbrained than usual but give me a break, would you? I'm having menopausal weeks or months now rather than simple “moments,” and my ONLY child is leaving the state to start a new life. I cannot continue at this time until I pull my act together.)

(15 minutes later) I'm now returning to how Mother adores The Child and lets him get away with whatever he wants. This wasn't super hideous by any stretch as it wasn't like he and his crew were doing anything unsavory or illegal as they were all of age. (Actually, “unsavory” might have unfolded but I digress yet again.)

A fog machine or dry ice machine or whatever one calls it was also utilized in the “party palace” along with decorative seasonal lights. The music was so loud that had the farm still been located up the road, I fear sour milk would have exited the cows come morning.

I was amazed that dear Mother didn't feel the vibrations from her spot in the western region of the home but she did not. It was a clever way to carry out a 21st birthday all in all. (I won't mention how the designated driver was stopped by the locals because The Child would be upset with me if I did so.) Mother would have checked on me at least 825 times throughout the night if I had thrown a loud party in her garage. Plus, he told her of some of the wild shenanigans the next day and she giggled about it all. Of course he was of age but still. Now I'm mad and a touch jealous, I might add.

I'm running out of room and best wrap this up. I don't have room to lay out his entire life story in this paper but I gave it my best. Again I ask you to cease in that rude behavior of exhaling madly. (Todd the Cat is floating your way now.)

The Child, also known as Spencer Blaine Boyd, has been a total asset to the community and to our lives. He has been a rock during times of despair, a person who always has time for a friend or a mom in need and an overall philosophical thinker/speaker. From the earliest age he has been quite the conversationalist and is well informed to boot. (It's because he

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corporate media and he possesses a healthy distrust of “official” governmental stories and/or talking points. You didn't think I could go this long without saying something political, did you?)

The best parents can do is to launch well-rounded offspring into the larger world. We do so by stressing the value of being kind to others and treating all with human dignity. We also attempt to emphasize the importance of play time and work time.

I think one of the most important aspects of life is to have a good sense of humor and the ability to utilize reason and critical thinking skills. I believe he fits that description.

My favorite Houston Community College professor Dr. G. Ross taught me something that I have instilled in Spencer to the best of my ability; I shall paraphrase at this time.

A society is judged on how it treats its very young and very old. I can only hope that between the three of us (Mother, Perpetual and Your Humble Columnist) we've managed to mold him into a person who will be a plus for society at large, and small. With that, I shall say good luck and Zeus speed, as the saying doesn't go.

Looks like I'm going to need a new computer as this keyboard is ruined due to my flood O tears. Hold me.

THE END (Interstate Crosscheck)