THE SONIC BOOMER
I don’t know what it is about grandchildren, but they’re always surprising us. You’ll be going through your day, admiring how much they look like you or act like you when, all of a sudden, they do something that makes you ask, “Where did that come from?”
A child who loves to dance will emerge from a family of bad dancers. A vegetarian will show up in a family of carnivores. Or there is suddenly a natural-born politician. This is the case with my grandson, Orion.
I don’t mean that, at age 12, Orion lusts after the office of student body president or wants to dominate schoolyard decision-making, he’s just a born leader who loves people and knows what to say to each of them. Because he makes each person feel acknowledged and special, he is the one often turned to for his opinion. When asked, he will offer this opinion in a very unassuming way — a way that has people feeling it was their idea in the first place, which results in making his opinion very popular.
I don’t know how he does it, but he’s had this attribute all his life.
When Orion was 3, an 8-year-old bully at a local park blocked him from going down the slide. Orion pulled a plastic ring out of his pocket and offered it to him. (Orion had found the ring moments before, buried in the sand.) The bully accepted the bribe, and the toddler lobbyist was granted slide access. As for me, I just sat on the bench with my mouth open.
Orion’s favorite color is pink, and he wears it shamelessly, together with a number of string bracelets. Now all the boys at school are wearing pink and string bracelets. If Orion grows his hair out, all the boys grow their hair out. If he gets a punk cut, they all get punk cuts. He won’t wear socks. His jerseys are baggy. He has somehow emerged as a fashion icon at school. As for me, I’m in sweatpants 24/7.
When Orion was 11, he got taken to Mr. Robinson’s office for leading a noisy charge down a school hallway.
“What’s going on, Orion?” his counselor demanded.
Orion looked at the floor and said, “I guess I just need to learn how to be a better person.”
It’s the perfect answer to any educator, especially when delivered without attitude, just sincerity.
The beginning of this school year, Mr. Robinson welcomed each middle schooler back by putting a lei around their neck.
“Then he bopped me on the back of the head with the lei box!” Orion told me, grinning.
“He hit you?”
“No, just bopped!” Evidently, Orion took this assault to mean that he and Mr. Robinson were special friends. I believe they are. And it doesn’t stop there.
“Mr. Robinson doesn’t call me Tess, he calls me ‘Orion’s sister,’” my granddaughter giggled. She also felt a special friendship with Mr. Robinson, simply due to her familial connection to Orion.
I don’t know this guy myself, but I do know that if I ever am called to his office, I am immediately mentioning my relationship to Orion. Being politically unsavvy, I have to rely on name-dropping. It’s all I’ve got.
