Boxers
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Boxers
Copyright 2004-2012 Jon Sindell
In this epistolary tale, middle–aged hipster Hammerhead Hirsch, The Pugilist Poet and Boardwalk Balladeer of limited Beat Era fame, struggles to raise his kid Scrap on his own. Ten years in the life of a father, son, and dogs. First appeared in New South.
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Boxers
May 21st, 1990
To My Brand New, Squishy Little Squiggly Pink Squid:
Hello, dude, and welcome to the world! It’s me, your paw, Hammerhead Hirsch (just plain “Head” to most folks), doing that good old-fashioned, Hallmark, write-a-letter-to-your-newborn thing to put on your wall in a real cool frame just as soon as you’re able to read it. The first thing you gotta know about this new, 44 y.o. dad of yours, he ain’t no straight-arrow, conservative, Hallmark-type guy at all, he’s a poetry slammin’, night jammin,’ beer-drinkin’, blues singin’, bookstore clerkin’, hard-workin’, been-there, done-that, flower power graybeard with a squashed pug’s nose and a tie-dyed shirt and a beat-up fedora I wear `cause I like it. And more than all that, I’ve got so much love for my new baby boy it’d fill the Great Lakes–and half the Pacific!
And so, little dude, does your mom–what a beauty! And a’course, I’m talking body and soul. There’s a song, my friend, from before your woman-child of a mom was even born, about a girl named “Saffron” who the singer was mad about–and not a day goes by I’m not singin’ I’m just mad `bout your everlovin’ mama with the corn-colored hair and the sparkling eyes like the western sky. And lookin’ at her now in her rocker, dude, lookin’ down at you lookin’ back up at her, the sparkle in those eyes has never been brighter. See, you’re gonna be just mad about Saffron, too.
All My Love, Always,
Papa
May 21, 1991
Happy Foist Boitday to Da Artist-Formerly-Known As Squid! Let all men know by these presents–i.e., these toys and games fit for a king–that the runt of the roost will henceforth be known to one and all as “Rex” (i.e., “king”).
All our love,
Dad and Saffron (i.e., The Artist Sometimes Known As “Mom” When She’s In The Mood To Be Called That!)
The North Pole
December 25, 1991
Dear Rexer,
Ho ho ho, and I “ho”–pe you like this extra special present, given to an extra special kid who was oh-so good in helping his mom by giving up nursing (at last). Today the bottle, tomorrow, the world!
Love, Your (other) gray-bearded friend,
Santa
P.S. Your mom–I mean, “Saffron”–told me–crying, no less!–to tell you, quote: “My `Big `trong king,’ you are so incredibly strong, spiritually as well as physically, you sometimes seem like a miniature man.” She also says you’re a “very old soul” (huh?).
Love, Santa
January 5, 1992
New Year’s Resolutions
1. Quit pot.
2. Save $1,200 towards buying the bookstore.
3. Read bookkeeping book.
4. Go vegan if can do so without risking kid’s health.
5. Meditate for stress relief.
6. Find a woman for the sake of the kid.
7. Forgive Saffron for leaving.
February 8, 1992: Mantra On The Mirror
Hang in there, Head.
February 22, 1992
Howdy, Rex! Your dad’s reading this out loud to you `cause you can’t read, and I can’t talk human–duh I can’t, I’m a dog! Haw! Haw! I’m a boxer dog, which a’course makes sense, considering your dad is an ex-pug himself! See, a pug is a squooshy faced dog like I am, but a pug’s a fighter, too, like your dad was, back in the day, so–aw, never mind. The point is, I love you! And your dad says you’re gonna love me, too! He also says you’re gonna take care of me, and we’re gonna grow up together! So, pleased to meet you, ol’ buddy, ol’ pal! The name’s Lenny Bruce (but you can call me “Lenny”).
March 18, 1992
Dear Bonnie,
It was so long ago we said “just friends”– but now I wonder, why do we say “just” when friendship seems the deepest of all? I need your friendship now big time, dear heart, and my son needs a motherly gal just like you in his life. And Bon, at the risk of seeming like the same old “brute,” this too must be said: if you come into his life, that’s as far as it goes.
Your forever friend,
Head
May 21, 1992
A Homemade Card For Our “Big `Trong King”!
Ant Bonnie, and me, and ol’ Lenny B
Just wanted to say, have a happy birth–day
Your family is here, and you never need fear
Bonnie’s cake’s in the dish
Blow `em out, make yer wish!!!
June 4, 1992
Rexness,
I’ve asked your new preschool teacher to read this to ya `cause I want you to know I’m there with you in spirit. You’re gonna love The Bumblebee, man, they got gallons of fingerpaint, and swings and rings, and lots of rugrats for you to get down with. And your teacher, Miss Maggie, is hecka nice, too.
LOVE, Papa.
Pea Ess: And pretty, too (wink*)
July 8, 1992
Dear Miss Maggie,
Thanks for your heads-up on Rexer’s adjustment (or lack thereof) to preschool. Yeah I know, it’s fascinating, how he grabs the crayon in his fist like a dagger and puts his head down and sticks out his tongue, and knits his brow and shuts out the world and makes whirls for hours. But he ain’t aw-tistic, he’s just ar-tistic! And no worries that he only uses blacks, browns, and grays–the kid’s been workin’ through a whole world of hurt.
Gratefully,
Hammerhead
P.S. Your writing’s as pretty as your shining blue eyes!
July 23, 1992
Howdy, Wrecks! It must be weird hearing Miss Maggie’s sweet voice speaking my words! I might be late picking you up `cause I’m helping my gardener friend plant flowers again (“second career,” like we talked about), but the good news is, Miss Maggie’ll take you home if I’m late.
Love, Pop.
Pea Ess: Maybe she’ll also have dinner with us! (double wink**). Is she smiling now? Is she fire–truck red?
August 3, 1992
Dear Rex,
How’s your day goin’? Hey, do me some more of those nice flower drawings with the beautiful colors, there’s still a few inches of wall in the kitchen that ain’t been covered with your great artwork yet!
Paw
August 10, 1992
Howdy Rex, it’s me, Lenny! Whaddya mean, my voice sounds like Dad’s? Hey pal, I was thinkin’: d’ya think we could start sleepin’ in our own room soon? I love Pop and all, but I’m ten months old already, and in kid years, that’s six! And Pop snooores!
Love, Lenny.
P.S. I like Maggie, too, but she gets kinda shy around me at bedtime (cuz I’m a boy, I guess), and if we want her to do sleepovers, I guess we’d better not sleep in Dad’s room.
August 21, 1992
Dear Bon,
Thanks for the muffins (you ain’t lost your touch!), and the cleaning, too (though no one asked, and I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness!). And no thanks for the crack `bout my “pretty young friend.” My kid needs mothering, not me.
Your Forever Friend,
Head
November 22, 1992:
Dear Wrecks:
Miss Maggie’ll be
takin’ you home tonight, my back still hurts like a (shut yer mouth!).
Pop.
P.S. Don’t draw me in those flower gardens you’ve been drawing no more, my so-called “career” as a gardener is over.
November 24, 1992
Maggie May,
I understand how you feel about dating (etc.) Rex’s dad, and I respect your principles,
mucho–but a Thanksgiving break-up’s a bit too rich in iron-y for my poor blood.
With deepest affection,
H
November 29, 1992: A Note on Head’s Door
Bon,
I’m half dead and the kid barfed on the carpet. Could you deal with it, please, and get my scrip filled?
December 12, 1992
Dear Miss Sharon,
First of all, let me say straight up, you’ve created a wonderful preschool, and thanks for that (and for the critical price break, too). But second, I doubt it’s the first time a kid ever bit someone! But I’ll talk to the lad.
Respectfully,
Mr. Hirsch
April 6, 1993
Heya, Squid, it’s me, Lenny, imitating Dad’s voice! Didja see the new blanket Dad put on our bed? It’s Scoobie Doo, dude! Oh man, oh man, I really wanna start sleepin’ in that bed soon! Can we, can we, huh, huh? We’ve been waiting sooo looong!
Woof,
Lenny B.
P.S. Ant Suzette’s super nice and Dad really likes her, but her perfume gives me a headache! Another good reason to sleep in our room!
P.P.S. Thanks for the cheeeese!
May 21, 1993
Happy