We spent Friday night trekking into the Reggie Lewis Center—a ninety-minute ride into Boston during rush hour—to see Graham run for five minutes and two seconds to be precise. He finished second in his mile heat, first among freshmen, and twelfth overall, and he set a new personal record. Once he finished, we hustled down to Silver Lake Regional in another hour-plus drive because it was the night of the big holiday concert for the bands and choirs.
As the band kids filed on stage, Lauren said, “I’m very curious to see what he’s wearing.”
“Did he bring all the stuff he needed to change?”
“He says he did. But they’re all in black, and I don’t think he owns a black shirt.”
Graham slow-rolled his way to his seat. His hair was a total mess, and he was in all black, but the shirt looked both wrinkled and put on sideways.
“I think he wore a white shirt,” Lauren said, “and I think someone loaned him a black sweatshirt to put over it. I’m not sure he’s wearing socks.”
Graham played about as well as he dressed, which is too bad because as you may recall from previous posts, at his best, he’s as good as Louis Armstrong who is decidedly “mid.” But when you PR in the mile in the same night, we can only expect so much.
We went to Chili’s to postgame the evening. Over chips and salsa, burgers, and chicken crispers, we caught up with the family on happenings. Being in Massachusetts for the holidays, Lucia was not in Hawaii for her boyfriend’s Christmas party at work, so Brayden helpfully sent pictures of the “two of them” at the party, as follows.
Meanwhile, Katy and Grant went to a live nativity in Lewisburg where Katy snapped this picture of Grant.
“It’s not a pet, is it?” I wrote to Grant.
“No, it’s a future pork butt, pernil, and chicharron,” he wrote back.
Graham then said, “All of us at school told Quinn that he’s only school-famous because of his older brother and sister.”
“What makes them famous?” I said.
“Well, Hunter is a wicked good soccer player.”
“What about you?” I said. “Are you school-famous?”
“Yes. But not because of my siblings.”
“How do you figure? Your brother is a state champion. Your sister is the most decorated athlete in Silver Lake history.”
“I’m famous on my own merits. I’m wicked fast.”
Lauren posted that conversation to the group chat. I thought the kids would shoot him down, but Lu agreed with his take. Go figure.
“So you think you’re going to do the 1k anytime soon?” I said to Graham.
“After the New Balance meet,” he said.
“What’s the nationals qualifying time for freshmen?” I said.
“2:48. I think I can get that.”
Lauren had been gazing at one of the TVs. She snapped back to the conversation now. “Wait. How much further is the 1k than the 800?”
“Are you serious?” I said.
“Mooomm!” Graham said. “It’s like you don’t know how to do math!”
“What?” she said. “Come on, guys. I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”
“Well, a 1k is one thousand meters,” I said.
“So two hundred meters,” she said.
“Come on, Mom,” Graham said. “That’s like second grade math.”
“I just didn’t think of it that way. I didn’t realize 1k meant one thousand meters.”
I smirked. “You’re not making it better.”
“So like a 5k. That’s—“
“You should really stop while you’re only a little behind.”
“No, listen. A 5k is—“
“Five kilometers,” I said.
“Which is 3.1 miles,” she said.
“It’s five thousand meters, Mooomm!” said Graham. “It’s the metric system. It’s wicked easy.”
“I told you that you should stop,” I said.
“Ohhhh . . . cuz kilo means—“
“A thousand,” Graham said. “That’s why the world uses the metric system. Cuz it’s wicked easy.”
“I’m soooorrrry, guys!” Lauren exclaimed. “I was thinking of miles.”
“I tried to tell you,” I said.
“I know, I know. You’re always telling me. I’m tired.”
His Smile Lit Up a Room and Other Things to Say at My Funeral 