It's Memorial Day Weekend. On Norwood Street, this is a holiday replete with neighborly interactions. Being, as I am, a roller derby widow, I found myself the recipient of much fine hospitality.
While I could expatiate upon the bench-side snacks provided by Megan on Friday afternoon, or the delicious backyard barbecue hosted by the Harris-Wattses, for the purposes of this blog, I will pause only on the impromptu offer of a spare-rib dinner by my dear neighbors, the Caseys.
The dinner, itself, was delightful, garnished as it was by Jim's homemade, ketchup-free barbecue sauce and Jack's many witticisms. But a standout of the evening was a small performance by James, age 5.
In a particularly wriggly mood--and who wouldn't be, with such a scintillating guest as myself present--James enacted some very strange writhings and facial spasms that caught my attention.
Fortified by several glasses of the Caseys' excellent red wine, I said the first thing that came into my head.
"Are you favoring us with your Elephant Man impression?"
In the sober light of day, I realize this is not the question you ask of a 5-year-old, or his precocious 8-year-old brother, who will demand an explanation.
Thankfully, Ann leapt into the breach, describing the disease Elephantiasis and all its accompanying horrors. Naturally I feared the inevitable follow-up, queries about the likelihood of contracting this disease.
As it turns out, this should not have troubled me.
Upon hearing the explanation, James leapt onto his seat, stood with legs apart, fists on hips, and announced, "Never fear, Elephant Man is here!"
Then there was some booty shaking, but I think that has more to do with James himself than the pachyderm superhero he was portraying.
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