Late night gab

So the phone rang at 2AM last night and it was, of course, the lad wanting to say Happy Thanksgiving sort of late. Mostly he wanted to talk. He’s in New York with the family, staying across the from MoMA, I believe. Since his cell phone doesn’t work well inside, he was standing out in front of the hotel in his sweat pants, ratty old sweatshirt and a baseball cap with a fancy cigar his granddad gave him. And receiving stares from late arriving guests who probably thought he didn’t belong there. But I do believe he enjoyed that. If his father had known he was out there, he’d probably have dragged the lad in by the scruff of his neck.

We talked for about an hour. Standing out in the street of a city that never sleeps, it sounded as if he was outside during mid-day. Still vibrant at 2AM and I was the littlest bit envious. His Thanksgiving Dinner left something to be desired, but being in the city was worth it. He really does love that city. Tonight he goes to a concert with some school buddies who are coming over from Jersey. All I asked was please be careful.

Otherwise conversation turned to food. He sounds as if he is starved for real food. “You have no idea how much I can’t wait to get home for Christmas,” he said. “I hope you realize that I want...need...real food every night. Home cooking. And I want to take a cooler of frozen meals back with me. School food is horrible.”

Well, I imagine that can be arranged.

Sounds as if a few of his friends will be hanging here for a few days at some point in the vacation. I have spoken with most of them on the phone already, so they’d like to come up to meet face to face and..um...eat my home cooking. I wonder if anyone has done a study of young men to find out how many seconds pass between thoughts of food. I’m beginning to believe they think about food way more often than...you know. So, I presume things will be a little busy around here. I think I’m going to be cooking a lot. And baking. And I think I’m going to enjoy it a lot, too.

The next problem will be trying to figure out what the lad wants for Christmas. I asked and he said, “I don’t really know. I can’t think of anything.” To which I replied, “Does that mean I’m going to have to wrap underwear and socks for you to open?”

“Hey, I wouldn’t mind,” he said. And then, “How about some nice cotton sheets and pillow cases for my bed? Some nice Egyptian cotton sheets, extra long. Simon has some and I want some so bad.”

What a difference a year makes. Last year it was all video games and techno stuff. This year—nice cotton sheets. Shopping is going to be an adventure.