Miles

My young friend Miles has been asking that I write a blog about him. I don’t now why, but he’s a good kid and does have a sense of humor, albeit a strange one. He finds cheese amusing, so I’ll do it.

Miles is 17 years old. He’s a Bush republican, towers over people at  6’2” and weighs 145 pounds, which in and of itself is worth mentioning. His mom is a gorgeous California blond whom I’ve known for a decade or so. She and Miles’ father have been divorced a long time. Miles has a younger brother, Spencer, who is 13 and by all reports spends far too much time playing Xbox games with people he’s never met. Spencer plays sports. Miles doesn’t. Spencer is the kind of kid who, if he sees a burrow entrance  in the ground, will stick his hand in it. Miles is the kind of kid who will tell you the 103 reasons this is not a good idea. They constantly whine about each other but are best friends.

Miles has a white pick-up truck courtesy of his grandparents. He mows lawns and does odd jobs and is saving his money to buy a BMW. He wants to be a commercial real estate agent later in life and so he can make a lot of money quickly. I suppose he’ll do exactly that which is both good and bad because when he was younger, Miles was also one hell of an artist. He had a natural instinct for colors and shapes, and I have one of his framed paintings in my house.  With a little training he could be great, but chances are this won’t happen because, one, he does not want to be anywhere but the Commonwealth of Virginia, and two, artists don’t make a lot of dough.

Miles and his brother have it pretty good. There’s a creek behind their house where he and Spencer have spent a lot of time doing what boy kids do; they’ve found box turtles, salamanders, wounded birds and Civil War artifacts there. They have dirt bikes they ride when the weather’s good. They spend a few nights each month at their mother’s house and go with her to California for two weeks in the summer.

The Holidays are generally an embarrassment of riches. When they were younger, two sets of grandparents doted on them, as did their mom and dad and Christmas eve looked like FAO Schwartz on speed. I suspect things may have changed a bit since the stuff they yearn for now (computers, gaming systems, cars) is slightly more expensive than it was when they were little kids.

Pretty soon Miles will be going to college, probably nearby since he doesn’t want to leave the state. Chances are his choice of a major will be a safe one because security is important to him. He likes schedules, likes to know where he’s going, how long it will take to get there, and how long he’ll stay. He doesn’t enjoy being startled, isn’t fond of surprises. I wouldn’t at all be surprised if Miles and Spencer reach different pinnacles in life.

I imagine he’ll read this with his patented goofy grin. Am I right, Miles?