Green Apples

Dad called me yesterday. We caught up, talked about a ZZ Top concert he'd seen on TV.

[Maybe I don't give enough credit to him for the passion I have for music. He has always loved it.]

I told him that Wolfboy is going to spend the rest of the summer with his other grandparents starting Monday.

Dad told me to "tell Tommy and Nell that they'd better have some green apples, because we learned the hard way that that boy won't eat red ones."

I was glad he brought that up, because it reminded me of something I've been rolling around in my head for a while. I explained that I worry that Wolfboy doesn't grasp what a life of comfort and privilege he leads. He'll only eat green apples, and complains that he's bored with his latest video game and needs a new one.

I have a new coworker, Dad. She's from Bosnia. She lived for 10 years in a refugee camp. 10 years! He has no idea how easy he's got it.

"Bosnia?" Dad asked me. He started talking about the atrocities that have occurred there. "They'll beat someone to death just to save the cost of a bullet," he said. He went on to explain what rough terrain there is in that part of the world, and how the Slavs stopped Hitler in the mountains there.

"You know, at seven years old, maybe it's best that the worst thing he has to worry about is green apples," Dad said.

***

I've shared this story with my coworker.

***

You should hear Eric Nadel's call for Josh Hamilton's walk-off homer last night.