He knows not what he does

Last weekend my kids and I were able to attend the Respress family reunion in Frostproof. These people encompass my mother’s side of the family and there were about 150 members of our extensive relations present.

The best part of our family gatherings, besides seeing how big the children are getting, is the food. I supplied Maryland Fried Chicken which is just about the best chicken you can get without making it yourself.

I also brought pink stuff; a concoction made of cottage cheese, cool whip, pineapple, pecans, and Jello mix. It usually tastes pretty good, but I made it wrong so I had a whole bunch of pink goo to take home and dump in the trash. It didn’t smell good after a couple days in the garbage.

I had to tell my son that all the girls at the reunion were related to him. I asked if he understood what that meant. He said yes, but I was skeptical.

Though the boy is only twelve, he has been getting himself into some situations lately that I’m not particularly happy about.

For instance, it seems like every other week since he started middle school, he has been calling a different girl his “girlfriend.” I use that term loosely because I had assumed this was fairly innocent being that the “relationship” was confined between the weekday hours of 8am until 3pm.

I mean, what harm could come from having a platonic relationship at school?

Then I caught him kissing a girl in the neighborhood.

Now things have completely changed.

I guess, as a parent, I viewed my son as this little boy who would be a bit shy about actually taking that next step with a girl. I was 14 when I first kissed a boy. I figured I’d have at least 2 more years before my son decided to try and contract oral herpes.

Suddenly, the freedoms he used to have with skateboarding and riding his bike to his buddy’s house have switched to “Call me when you get there” followed by me driving by to get a visual confirmation of his whereabouts like an undercover police officer on a stakeout.

If he doesn’t answer his phone, I go ballistic.

Tonight, he wants to go to a football game so he can sit with the new love of his life for this week. I’m sure he thinks I’m going to leave him there unattended, but what he doesn’t know is that I’m prepared to torture my tailbone on the bleachers and listen to his little sister point and stare at her big brother for two hours; all for the sake of saving him from himself.

Visual contact will be maintained at all times and there will be no bathroom breaks.

Respress boys are adorable and they grow up to be good-looking men. So do those Hutchins men.

When I look at my son and think of the entire DNA that went into making him such a tall, handsome boy, I wonder if there isn’t such a thing as an ugly stick that I could lovingly tap him with for a few years; strictly for his own good, of course.

Until then, girls, be warned. You are officially being put on alert, so don’t mess with my son. He’s still my baby and you can’t have him until we sign papers agreeing on his release conditions.

I’ll thank you in advance for your cooperation in this matter.

Good people do great things

About a month ago I had lunch with Hollie, a friend of mine who attended my alma mater, Avon Park High School. She was a year ahead of me, but we knew a lot of the same people.

I brought my yearbooks so we could reminisce about the good old days when girls teased their hair using lethal amounts of Aqua Net to hold it in place all day and guys still wore boat shoes.

I graduated in 1991 so we were at the tail-end of the 80s era and the grunge scene had yet to establish itself. I had memorized the movies “Sixteen Candles” and “The Breakfast Club” word-for-word and the “Hair Bands” that screeched and screamed their hard rock noise was my favorite music to annoy my mother and sister with.

Having started my high school journey at a larger school in Palm Bay where people were meaner and less forgiving of status, I came to Avon Park in my 10^th grade year with a chip on my shoulder ready for a battle. I was shocked when I didn’t receive it.

People were nice. Too nice. They invited me places and seemed to accept me even though I wore black T-shirts and acted sullen and disinterested.

I always thought they were welcoming to me because of my best friend, Damon. He grew up in Avon Park and everyone seemed to love him.

Well, most people loved him. There were a couple guys who bullied him and I still remember who they are. I’m sure they have moved on, but I won’t forget.

So despite my most earnest efforts, I made friends in Avon Park. I went there set on maintaining a wall of protection from caring about people and for some reason they just crept right into my heart when I wasn’t paying attention.

Years later, here I was flipping through my yearbook with Hollie feeling a little ashamed about some of the things that were written next to a few pictures of people I barely knew and some I knew well.

One friend wrote a comment next to a girl’s photo that still makes me mad. I didn’t write it, but I can’t believe he wrote it in my yearbook. I certainly never felt that way about her.

Another picture was a guy who was really sweet and I wrote one word that makes me feel bad to this day. He never did anything to me. I wish I could kick my 15-year old self for thinking it.

I blacked out the pic of my ex-boyfriend in the 11^th grade; forever erasing him from my records. He kind of deserved it. I don’t really regret that.

I say all of this to display how shallow and disrespectful and short-sighted teenagers can be. I know I was. This is why I am so incredibly proud of what Sebring High School did last week when they elected Samantha Alamo as their homecoming queen.

I was even more excited when I found out that Dalton Helvey escorted her. Dalton happens to be my niece’s half-brother and an all-around great kid. I couldn’t be more impressed.

I recently wrote an article about wishing things in the news didn’t happen in Florida. I want to gladly announce that I am overjoyed that this not only happened in Florida, but it happened right here in Highlands County; Sebring to be exact.

Please, tell everyone about it and don’t spare any details.

Manatee wrangler

Whenever I hear a strange or disturbing story in the news, I think to myself “Please don’t let this be something that happened in Florida.”

I make this plea to the powers that be because it seems that all the craziest, most off-the-wall news occurs right here in the Sunshine State and I really don’t like to believe that people from my home state can possibly be so deranged.

I once had a theory that the sun was actually to blame for higher levels of insanity because the closer you get to the equator in any given population around the world, there seems to be more violence, less clothing, and increased acts of psychotic behavior.

That doesn’t mean that some lone nut like a Ted Bundy can’t be spawned out of the Pacific Northwest, but he did make his way to Florida before he was captured.

This all leads up to the most recent in Florida’s shaming news: the manatee wrangler. This woman decided it would be okay to hop on top of one of these endangered mammal’s backs for a little ride.

When I read the headline, I knew it happened at one of our beaches because where else do they have manatees? The photo revealed that she was wearing a bikini top mismatched with a pair of swim shorts which screamed “FLORIDA!” without even having to confirm whether or not she was sporting a pair of flip flops, the footwear of choice for just about anyone calling our state home.

I will shamefully admit that I laughed aloud when I saw the pictures and I won’t even try to defend this reaction. Sometimes things are just funny, even when an adorable animal on the verge of extinction is being harassed.

For one thing, the woman did not look flattering in any way. One of my biggest fears is that someone will snap a photo of me in my bathing suit when I don’t know they are doing it. Heck, even if I do know, I wouldn’t like it. No view is a good view as far as I’m concerned because I’m not 22 years old anymore.

Anyway, she wasn’t exactly posing for the camera and she didn’t look to have very good control over the situation which is understandable considering the fact that she most likely forgot to bring her manatee riding gear to the beach that day.

The other reason the photo was humorous is that I have never in my wildest dreams thought to ride a sea cow! They seem to glide through the water at their own slow pace chewing on aquatic plants and basically don’t bother anyone.

Manatees remind me of myself on land; lumbering around unable to avoid running into anything that moves with any type of accelerated motion. Perhaps manatees are a bit more graceful in their underwater habitat than I am in my own, but they aren’t constantly trying to avoid my son’s skateboard carelessly discarded by the side door. Then again, I’m not always looking over my shoulder for oncoming propellers or women who think I’m some kind of entertainment recently escaped from a Sea World side show.

The manatee wrangler turned herself in to the authorities with the excuse that she is new to town and didn’t know any better.

I’m guessing the law will have to be changed because of this woman’s actions. I’m looking forward to seeing what those new signs will look like.