Nicknames can be deceiving because they often derive from a sense of irony, like calling the six-foot-seven-inch, 300 pound giant, Tiny, or the bald man, Curly. You know, kind of keeps ‘em guessing. I mention this because a similar twist exists with the nickname(s) bestowed upon my number three son, SmallBoy, not to be confused with small boy.
I can’t remember which moniker came first, SmallBoy or Lito (Lee-toe), a derivative of Nathanielito, which translated means Little Nathaniel. I can still hear oldest bro HeadSodBuster calling him Chubby until such time as he found himself looking UP at SmallBoy, and deciding that discretion was the better part of valor.
So, no, SmallBoy was anything but. He started working at the ‘Ron when he turned 14, he was the captain of the defensive unit on his high school football team, he established the academic bar amongst his peers, he spent six or seven years as a Cal Fire Studly, and he has assumed a position beside his oldest brother, as they lead a political revolution on the cannabis front, here at HappyDay Farms.
|Lito and Hazel|
A peaceful revolution because the dude does not get riled. Have you ever seen him get really salty? No, neither have I. Sarcastic maybe, or pissed about a called third strike because the batter needs to guard the plate, but not plain old angry at me or someone around me. If it happens, it takes place somewhere out of my range.
He can even talk to trump supporters without resorting to violence!
But let’s get right down to the nitty-gritty here, shall we? There’s a foot of snow on the ground, Gluten-Free Mama has been fretting for days because she needs to get off the mountain on Monday, but she is snoozing away right now, even as I prattle on, secure in the knowledge that “Lito said he could get me out of here.”
You can’t buy that kind of insurance from Jake, at State Farm.
We might go two weeks without clapping eyes on him, and then he’ll turn up just in time to deliver a truckload of seasoned firewood, from over at his spot, because “I needed to get out and do something physical.” Works for me and GF Mama.
Then, without bothering to mention it, he’ll grab the three empty gas cans and return later with them full. Hey, when it’s sunny out, the gas is unnecessary, but snow is a definite deterrent to sunlight, so we need to supplement the solar power with a little fossil fuel action.
It’s our alimony in the divorce settlement with PG&E, which took place back in 1982, when we relocated off the grid.
Lito is the guy who drove down to The City last week, by himself, to pick up Tobias, Max and Case, Max’s bro, from the airport. I don’t even like to drive down to the ‘Ville by myself, let alone brave the traffic going through San Francisco. And don’t get me started on the current storm raging outside our front door.
The exotic nature of snow notwithstanding, it causes undue stress when it comes to having to keep appointments off the mountain. Just reschedule? Yes, that works if it’s a teeth-cleaning appointment, or a consultation with your money manager over how to invest that loot that keeps pouring in from all directions. I know. We all have that problem.
Oh, if she had to, she could cancel the morning of the appointment, and they would immediately fill the empty slot, but that would mean delaying forward progress in our battle against her kidney cancer, and we hate when that happens. Considering Lito is already signed up to make the run over to Sac, the day after tomorrow, we are especially grateful.
SmallBoy = BigHeart