Memories of Mr. Grin

It's too hot to walk before 7 PM. Our afternoon walks have become evening strolls. All of our walks tend to feature some sort of verbal essay questioning that we use as subject matter. The hotter the day, the more short answer the questioning becomes. Three days ago, in the relatively cool of the evening, the question appeared safely open ended.

Our responses wouldn't be held against us by each other.

Lynn asked "why do guys nickname other guys."

Good question.

Deserving of deliberation.

I thought about the nicknames that I had been given over the years and considered an examination of the reason for those nicknames as a response to Lynn.

Nah, that get's away from the question.

The real question is why did I give nicknames, particularly when I was a teacher? Why did I give more nicknames to boys than I did to girls.

I began to talk about Mr. Grin.

Mr. Grin was a nickname I gave to an eighth grade student named Rob.

Rob was a quiet, well mannered guy. He was neither jock nor genius; neither smart feller nor fart smeller He didn't want to be noticed so he went for invisibility which might have worked if it wasn't for hs grin which I noticed due to its frequency and mystery. Mona Lisa has a smile....wouldn't call her expression a grin...likewise I wouldn't call Rob's grin a smile. A grin always has a trace of a sneer. Rob had that trace but tried to mask it with silent invisibility.

Invisible students tended to attract my attention.

I took it upon myself to remove the trace of sneer and increase Rob's visibility in the classroom. In a private conversation, I told him that I liked his grin. Hence forward I would call him Mr. Grin if I called on him and I when I did call on him with that nickname, I wanted it to be a sign of connection...an indication from the teacher that Rob wasn't an invisible boy...that Rob had a personality and opinion to go along with that personality. I wanted Rob to know that what he was doing was important, I wanted him to succeed and I would never quit on him.

I didn't put it like that. I just said "I like your grin Rob. I think Mr. Grin would make a great nickname.

Rob grinned in response.

I took that as a yes.

Very often over the course of the next year, I would ask an open ended question to the class. When nobody answered, I would ask "Mr. Grin what do you think?"

Rob would respond with his enigmatic grin while the class looked at him. I would then give my opinion of the question that I had asked and credit the opinion to Rob.

"Ah," I would nod. "Mr. Grin assures us that the Yankees will win."

Rob would grin in response to my response to his response which everybody took as agreement.

Rob was no longer invisible in class.

Rob became popular.

Often, I would ask a particular question of a particular person and that person might respond "I don't know. Ask Mr. Grin."

I would ask Rob. Rob would grin. I would interpret Rob's grin and shape his response to be the response to the question that I had asked.

You can't fool Mr. Grin. Mr. Grin knows all the answers.

The semi-sneer disappeared from Rob's grin; replaced with semi-confidence.

Close to confident .... not quite ....yet a hundred miles from arrogance or judgement.

All of a sudden, during my evening stroll with Lynn, Mr. Grin had appeared gently on my mind.

Mr. Grin had an older sister. I didn't realize that Doreen was Rob's sister. Eventually, Doreen got her degree in education and became a valued colleague of mine. That's when I found out about her kinship with Rob.

I retired. Dorren continued to teach. We became friends on Facebook.

Yesterday, a couple days after Rob's visit to my memory, I checked out Facebook and read this post from my ex-colleague and current FB friend Doreen,

"Can’t let today go by without mentioning my brother’s Heavenly birthday. Rob, my little brother, would have been 60 today! He’s been gone since 2013. Rob was a warrior with external and internal wars. But he was MY brother. He was the baby who I first took care of! He was the one who would crawl into my bed as a scared little 6 year old at night. He would fix my brakes in exchange for chocolate chip cookies. He would stand up for me and my girls when times were hard. He would call me first when he needed help changing a dirty diaper. He would take my girls waterskiing and was proud of them when they got up and mastered the skill he loved. He would take me skiing when he knew I needed a diversion. All of these memories are mine. No one can take them from me. He was MY little brother. Good, bad, indifferent. Happy Birthday in Heaven Rob. I miss the old you more than anyone knows!"

I don't know what battles Rob fought along the way but I'm pretty sure that some sneers were involved as well as some well and ill placed defiance.

Yet, he had the power to come into my mind on a sunset walk. He was grinnig at me even though now his grin was truly invisible. I grinned back. I let him know I was gonna write this story.

So I don't know why men give nicknames so readily to other men but I do know why I gave Mr. Grin his nickname. I liked him and I thought he liked the nickname.

Simple rilly.