Wash Those Rocks.

This post is for my baby girl, “Louie”. It will recur every February with very minor adjustments to amount of years and age.

Are you familiar with the term “Mulligan”? I heard it for my first time some years ago, I don’t remember when, but it’s been quite a while. I learned it’s a term used in a friendly golf match when someone has a lousy shot and gets an extra one. Have you ever given yourself, or been allowed a mulligan, that is, a chance to do it over? Dumb question, isn’t it? I think we all have at one time, one way or another, asked for or been given a mulligan, do over, another try, whatever you want to deem it. What about the mulligans you wish you could give yourself, or asked God for, but what’s done is done, no way of being able to correct the “Lousy Shot”?

A few years ago, about twelve years or so now, my wife’s son was in the process of a separation from his wife and was living with us for a while while things were getting sorted out. Our grand girl, Kayleigh, whom I nicknamed “Louie” (sometimes Snot Bubble), would live with us on a part time basis as well while her parents went through this separation process. Louie was three and four years old during this time, a little firecracker that loved her Nana and Grampy, but not nearly as much as we love her.

Every February, the Jefferson County Fairgrounds in Lakewood, Colorado will host a gem and mineral show for a society of geologists and rockhounds to set up their booths and display their merchandise and exhibits during one weekend of this month. When Louie was four, we set Saturday of that weekend to take her to this rock and mineral show and then afterwards, we would be off to Bass Pro to see the big fish in the giant fish tank and all the stuffed wild animals. “Hey Louie, we might be able to watch the fish eat during feeding time!” This really threw a log on the fire, the look on her face was classic. In her excitement of soon going to the rock show, Louie decided earlier that morning to begin her own collection of rocks with the river cobbles in our landscaping out back. She pulled together about ten of the finest specimens she could find. I stopped her short at bringing them into the house as they were pretty dirty and should be washed off first. “Just put ‘em near the faucet over there, we’ll get ‘em washed up and dried when we get back today”. She replied to me “Okay, then I’ll be able to bring them in?” I, without a thought replied, “You sure can Louie”.

When we arrived at the fairgrounds around nine or so, she couldn’t hold her excitement, it was like holding back a pit bull as we headed for the entrance. Once inside, all those colorful rocks and the many other items on display had her absolutely dazzled. With the vendors, Louie became an instant hit. The vendors loved her and some of them gave her small gifts of rocks, beads and stickers. There was some small talk and a little laughing between her and some of those vendors. Louie was not a shy baby girl, never afraid to start a conversation. She had a good day with everybody and really enjoyed seeing all the different specimens of rocks, jewelry, and fossils. We were there a good three hours or so and gave her a lunch purchased at the show of a killer hot dog with chips and a soda! After her lunch, we were back in the car and heading off to Bass Pro for the second part of our planned day. “Are we still going to wash my rocks when we get back Grampy?” Louie clutched tightly to her newly acquired collection of gifts from the show as she sat in the back seat anticipating the big fish at Bass Pro. “Are we going to watch the fish eat?”

Bass Pro was another jolt of excitement for her, the big fish (no, we didn’t get to see them eat), the really big boats to climb on, all the stuffed wild animals on display, and oh yeah, the snacks. She tried her luck at the shooting range, missing all the racoons and other targets that were in motion, but had the time of her life doing it. Each tent that was set up was a new cave to explore, in she would go, looking around, and up and down. A big “WOW!” in each one of them. Back to the fish, more stuffed animals, especially the moose! Up the stairs, down the stairs, up the stairs, “can we climb on the boats again?” Before long, it was time to head home.

As we were heading home, the sky was dark, the snow was flying, and the winds were picking up pretty good. Louie went on talking about her day. She recapped the mineral show, the hot dog, the fish, boats, stuffed animals, the moose. The words began to come slower and with less and less spark, then silence. As soon as we woke her up and got into the house, I was promptly reminded by Louie that we need to wash those rocks. “It’s snowing and windy out right now baby, we’ll get ‘em tomorrow”. I was prepared for the rebuttal. “You said we can wash them when we get back!” A voice in my head…., “it’ll take you five minutes”. Again, Louie said, this time with more apprehension in her voice,“But you said!” Then, an intervention from Nana, “Kayleigh, they’ll get done tomorrow”. I won, Louie cried.

Sunday, the next morning, plans were made with her dad, and they went off together for the whole day. When they got back to the house that evening, it was time for a bath, pajamas, then off to bed. The rocks were never mentioned, I never gave them a thought. A few days later after coming home from work I poured myself a brew into one of my beer glasses and Louie reminded me as I was pouring… “make foam”. As it was expected by Louie, I poured my brew with the glass at a tilt until the last ounce or so was left in the bottle, then straightened the glass and gave the bottle a quick jerk upward to put about an inch of foam on top. We headed to the recliner where she climbed on my lap and proceeded to draw her pretty pictures in that nice head of foam. Eventually, the foam wasn’t foamy, and her canvas was now gone. Off my lap she hopped, I was now allowed to drink my brew. About halfway through the glass, a knock at the door. My daughter Jessica answered it and there stood two Denver Policemen. “Does _____ _______ live here?” Jessica replied, “yes he does”. They asked, “is he here now?” “No, he isn’t”. I went to the door and asked what this was about. “Is Kayleigh _______ here with you now?” one of them asked. “Yes, she is”. Upon seeing the two officers and hearing her name, Louie became terrified and clung tight to Nana.

It turned out that Louie’s mother filed for divorce that day and apparently she was asked by the court that she filed in if a restraining order against the father was requested…. “Sure, why not….” It turns out she was parked outside our house across the street, I’m sure arriving the same time the officers did. Louie was listed as one of the persons that her dad was to stay clear of. The officers explained they had orders to take her away from the house and turn her over to her mother. Louie freaked. “Why are they taking me Grampy?. Don’t let them take me Nana!” The police allowed my wife to carry Louie outside to her mom, she cried the whole way, scared. I’ll never forget her little face as her flooded eyes stared at me as she was being walked to her mother’s car. We couldn’t even gather any of her toys or clothes. Just like that, she was gone.

The cops were nice enough guys, they made it clear this was not a favorite part of their job. We engaged in small talk until Louie’s dad got home and then they explained what had happened and what to expect in the future. After explaining the contents of the order to him, they handed him a copy of the order and were on their way. The whole incident was just a whole bunch of surreal weirdness. Louie’s dad was pissed and stomping around, my wife and daughter were upset, I was numb.

A couple days went by, and I ended up in the back yard, just kind of looking around, thinking about things over the past few days, still shocked by the weirdness of that recent afternoon. I looked over and there was Louie’s rocks by the faucet, in a pile, unwashed. “It’ll take you five minutes…..” I felt sick. Some months went by, and we were finally able to see Louie again, the process in the courts was slow. Eventually her visits to our house returned, weekends though. The times of Louie living with her Nana and Grampy part time, were over. Her dad eventually moved out and a new normalcy began. The drawings on the foamy canvas were over, things just became different all around.

There are two things that trigger my memory of that day. One is remembering the place where the rocks were stacked several years ago now, even though they have since been scattered, thrown, relocated to another place in the yard by one of the grandkids that came along since then, or others. The other is every time I pour myself a brew. I still make foam for Louie, but now I drink it before it dissipates, trying to imagine what drawing might be placed on that foamy canvas, reflecting on the last one she drew. Louie is sixteen years old now, doing awesome in school and now driving. How that went by like a vapor. She remembers the policemen in the house, but she doesn’t remember the rocks. I sure do, I’ll never forget.

How I wish I could give myself that mulligan. When you’re handed rocks to wash, whatever they might be, a phone call to a relative you know is dying, a friend that is grieving, checking in on a sick neighbor, doing that thing for your son or daughter you keep putting off, do it. I do use my mulligan in a way though, I try real hard not to allow that situation to happen again, not that particular situation of course, but one that I might regret. Are there going to be more situations for me where a mulligan is unreachable? Sure, there will, but I’ll try my best to wash the rocks that I can.

I love you, Louie!

Pick Up Your Jawbone. Slay Your Philistines!