Michigan Weather and Women: Part 2Dancing, and other forms of sentimentality.

Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connected.

 As we finished the prep work, I asked Wilma about her day with Mary.

"She

is a good kid but is carrying a lot of anger and shame. We spent most

of the day getting in touch with that anger. It takes some people years

before they can express their emotions through art; it took her about

five minutes. But we had to take some breaks to clean up the paint

splatters afterward before they stained."

"Oh shit! Sorry about that. I can pay to replace anything that;"

"Nothing to apologize for; I asked her to express how she felt, and she did it in the way that felt right to her."

"Well, I appreciate your taking the time. I am just her big brother; I feel so lost when it comes to parenting."

"Being

a parent doesn't mean that you know any more than anyone else, and it

certainly doesn't mean that you know any better. For what it's worth, I

think you are doing a fine job with your family. I know that you don't

have your parents around to say it, but this old woman is mighty proud

of who you are and of how you have stepped up for your brother and

sisters. They are very lucky to have you."

I

turned away so that Wilma wouldn't see me getting choked up. I couldn't

remember the last time that someone had said they were proud of me.

Soon enough, though, it was dinner time, and Erin came into the kitchen

with that same look of amusement on her face.

"Sorry to bother the chef, but Lane needs some help that only a big brother can provide."

When I gave her a quizzical look, she blushed.

"It

seems like he is going through puberty, which can pose; some new

challenges. When I was assessing his ankle, he; well, indicated his

interest in me in a way that can be difficult to hide, particularly

while wearing sweatpants. It's natural for his body to react that way at

that age, and it's nothing for him to feel badly about, but he was

mortified. I think he could use a bit of brotherly guidance and

understanding."

I went to the living room and saw that Lane was curled up on the couch and looked like he was fighting back tears.

"How are you doing, Buddy?"

He couldn't even look at me he was so embarrassed.

"I

am so sorry; I just couldn't help it. I don't know why it started to

get bigger, and I wanted it to stop, and it wouldn't and then she saw

me, and;" he continued as he fought back a sob. "Can we just go home?"

"Erin

is a doctor. She knows how the human body works and has seen that kind

of thing a hundred times. She isn't mad at you or embarrassed. She just

feels bad that you feel so bad. This is just part of getting older and

growing up.

"Did I ever tell you about what happened in Miss Iron's class when I was a freshman?

Miss

Iron was a bit of a legend among the male students at our local high

school. She was the youngest and prettiest teacher, by far, and even

though she always dressed professionally, the clothing style had yet to

be invented that could fully conceal her bountiful natural endowment.

"Well,

I liked Miss Irons a lot. She was one of the few teachers who looked

past my difficulty with reading and writing. So, I developed a little

crush on her, which was fine until the inevitable; hmm, physical

demonstration of my crush; happened in class one day, just before she

asked me to collect everyone's quizzes. I tried to delay, I tried to ask

a friend to do it instead, but eventually, I had to stand up. It took

me until my junior year to live that one down."

As

Lane listened to my story, he turned to face me and his second-hand

embarrassment for me helped to push his embarrassment to the side.

"So, what happened?"

"Miss

Irons was lovely and kind like she always was, but I wanted the floor

to open up and swallow me or to get hit by a bolt of lightning. Things

would have been fine if she hadn't mentioned what happened to the

principal, who called Mom. She didn't find the story funny at all."

I

hadn't thought of the aftermath when I started telling Lane this

particular story, but as they say, might as well put it in four-wheel

drive and keep going.

"Mom was mad?"

"By

then, Mom was pretty much always angry. I did my best to keep her away

from you and the girls when she got that way, but yeah; she was mad."

"Are you mad at me?"

"No,

Bud, I'm not. In a few years, once your embarrassment has died down a

little, I will tease you mercilessly about this because that's what

brothers do; and maybe threaten to tell your girlfriend, if you fall

behind on your chores or homework. But I will never get mad at you for

something that you can't control. And I promise that Erin isn't mad at

you either."