Aleister, Redux


    Amidst weathering my beloved friend, Bob Dietz's death, which was  preceded by another dear friend, Ann Lovell's, death, and weathering the ups and downs of a small business as a psychologist on Bainbridge Island, and, not nearly so challenging, but part of life as well, auditioning for a play on Bainbridge Island (and getting a callback), and occasionally going on dates with this man or that man, all well-educated and kind and me feeling as if there is something wrong with me for declining these good gentlemen, I received four or five days ago, a message from someone calling himself or herself Anonymous,  asking me, "What has happened with your Grandson, Aleister?"

     Well. It so happens that today I took the aforementioned Aleister to the Silvedale Mall to buy him school clothes for the upcoming term.  I have him placed, for the second year, in a small private school which is more accomodating to Aleister's character and desires, and he is much the better for it. I had, in my purse, a copy of The Grand Budapest Hotel, to which I took Aleister and his mother, Angela at some point in the last year, and which Aleister pronounced was not only, 'The first grown up film I have ever seen", but "The BEST film I have ever seen."

     I  thought, therefore, that I had best get him a copy, and Colin, the man who owns Silver Screen Videos on Bainbridge Island which is an awfully good video store, the best of the last of the breed,  and Colin,  who is an obliging friend who will do nearly anything for me at this point, so great is our mutual love of film, offered to let me buy, not rent, a copy of one of his "Grand Budapest" films instead of merely renting it. So I did. Gratefully and obligingly.

     When I slid The Grand Budapest Hotel out of my purse, Aleister, who is fourteen,  curly headed and touts a mustache now, kissed the video, then hugged it, then purred to it, then danced with it,and finally calmed down enough to thank me.  Clearly, he was pleased, or more than pleased.   He was wearing, Angela pointed out, a pair of my dearly-most-dearly-departed-husband-Jim's-gray-pants.  Those pants, those pants,  they danced in front of me, too long for Aleister,  but, as he pronounced, he would wear them "to the end of time."  He said he also owned a pair of slippers and a hat once owned by his "Papa Jim".  Which he would also own until...............yes.
   
      He was very different this year from last year (he IS very different this year from last year) in that he is distanced from his "inner-created-space-characters).....the ones who used to inhabit Aleister's mind.  Now, he is interested in Greek mythology, social behaviors, trivia.

     While shopping for clothes, Angela made one of those minor linguistic errors that turn the entire sentence upside down and Aleister nudged her and whispered, "Apostrophes, mother! Apostrophes are important!  Apostrophes can save lives!"

    "My mind is a veritable nest of trivia!" he chuckled,"as we sat down to eat at the Yacht Club Broiler.  He spoke about a new social game amongst teenagers called CHALLENGES -  -  one of the challenges being you spray your hands with hand sanitizer, rub them together, then set your hands on fire.  When I asked him if he had ever done this, he said, "NO!!! I personally think  this is done by a certain type of smart people trying to force gaps inside their specific genetic pools!"

     When Angela and I were talking about people in general, Aleister said, "My world belief is that we should hate the sin but love the sinner." Okay, score 1.

     Best of all was when he said, after a socially-approved-beautiful woman walked by, he said, " I don't really look at women. I just listen to them."  And went on with his Turkey Club Sandwich.

     He is very funny.  But he is also highly philosopical for fourteen.  He agreed to let me - and this was a big one - - take Jim's pants, the next time I saw Aleister - - and get them taken up by a professional tailor. "It is best to wait," he said, "for something you really want - - then to keep the thing for yourself, and suffer because it is not what you really want."  And he sat without complaining while Angela gave him a lesson on empathy - - at which point he managed to :man up" and display his own empathy.  Remember.  He is only fourteen. I doubt that most grown men would be so gallant or so open.

     So, dear ANONYMOUS, that is how Aleister is doing.  We are trying - - and Aleister is trying, as well, - - to keep everything that goes, going.  Aleister chooses,  on a daily basis, not to be miserable.  He knows he may be autistic, although that diagnosis seems less and less likely to me.  He knows he has not yet mastered perfect speech, due to his apraxia.  He also knows he is dearly, dearly, loved, that his mind is multi-layered and that he is smarat.  He can go anywhere.  He can do anything.  He used words today that I don't hear my best friends using.

      I believe, as the poet said, that words have meaning. And so does Aleister.