The Tale of Two Grandsons
What a day, what a week. Between working, taking Bruce to his GED test, and taking him to work there isn’t a moment left for relaxing, aka going on myspace.
I have been looking soooooooo forward to Wednesday afternoon. I knew I had to go shopping and at least get milk, eggs, bacon, bread, cereal, peanut butter and ice cream.
I rushed home from shopping, ready to either go over to the church—they were having a speaker and midweek supper—or fix pork chops and side dishes at home.
I had barely put the groceries away when the phone rang. Probably one of Bruce’s many crazy friends. The phone does not stop, if Bruce is home. He wasn’t home, so should I even bother to answer????????? Yes, I wanted to see who this person was, because the name did not mean I thing to me. It was a policeman asking me if I can come to the grave yard by Halsted and Ridge Road and pick up my grandson.
What did that darn Bruce do now? Those of you who know Bruce understand my question. I was still putting some stuff—I had bought for that darn Bruce—into the fridge and really was not paying that much attention. So, they got Bruce. What was he doing at the grave yard? Scaring people? Grave robbery? Not even Bruce would be that stupid. Then the cop said—I am just using the word cop because the word is shorter then police man and not out of disrespect—hey I even date cops—and you better bring somebody with you with a driver license to drive his car home. Darn. Now Bruce has really done it. He went out and smoked pot and stole a car and how did he end up by the graveyard?
“What, that darn fool, what did he do?” I yelled over the phone. “Calm down, Miss, he really did not do much of anything but he IS driving on a revoked driver license.” “That is totally nuts, that kid doesn’t even have a license.” “That is right, Mam, he doesn’t have one any more. I had to take it from him.” “What are you talking about? I think you have the wrong number.” “Now listen, if you do not come out here in ten minutes I have to arrest your grandson and tow his car away”! And it finally sank in. He was not talking about Bruce at all, he was talking about his older brother Kevin. The one who never gets into trouble. “You are not talking about Bruce, you are talking about Kevin Tyssen.” “Of course I am talking about Kevin, so get here. 10 minutes or it is too late.”
Where is the phone????????? “Patricia, Patricia, they have Kevin, thank God you are home, be outside your house in 10 seconds and I tell you everything, and by the way bring your driver license”
THANK GOD FOR PATRICIA, WHEN EVER I NEED HER SHE IS THERE. She lives around the corner and we work together and we are friends too.
Where are my car keys? Where is my purse with MY driver license? Darn, the door can stay open and unlocked. Let’s get Kevin. We made it –the cop said—in 8 minutes. Normally it takes 20 min. to get there. Yes, I was speeding 60 miles in a 40 mile area but Patricia was praying so hard, we knew there could not be a cop around. We collected Kevin. He was sitting in the back of a police car. I was shaking. Seeing my Baby in the back of a police car. Well, Kevin’s driver license was suspended because his car did not pass the emission test. Isn’t that totally crazy? Now he can’t drive to work and the court date is not until the end of April. This does not make any sense at all. And he drives a furniture moving truck for a living. OK. I feel better right now. Tomorrow morning when I have to get up an hour earlier to take Kevin to work, that will be a whole other story.AND BRUCE PLEASE FORGIVE ME
