The Great Kazooie

Recently my nephew Garrett celebrated his 50^th birthday. He’s more like a little brother to me than a nephew because there’s barely two and half years between us. He was one of the first playmates I had growing up and he always inspired some great adventures. From an early age, he taught me that life was meant to be enjoyed and experienced – not just survived.

Turning fifty is a milestone in anyone’s life but it is especially amazing for a person you never expected to see ten, let alone fifty.  No, he wasn’t one of those chronically sick kids and no, he didn’t have some terrible disease. In fact he was, and still is, one of the most naturally healthy people I’ve ever known. We are all amazed to see him turn fifty because, as a child, he seemed determined to kill himself.

It began with the baby aspirin. At the age of three he developed an addiction to the sweet little orange pills and would gobble them up like candy if a bottle was left within his reach.  After his stomach had to be pumped the first time, the bottle was placed in the high cupboard, safely out of his reach. Or so they thought.

Not long after, during a summer family barbeque, he’d been put to bed for his nap. He woke up while everyone but me was outside and decided it was the perfect opportunity to make a score.  After doing a reconnaissance crawl – through to determine the exact location of his payload, he proceeded to erect a rather intricate climbing tower out of the kitchen chairs and, using those to reach the counter top, scampered, spider-like, from there to the top of the fridge and into the cupboard where the orange flavored monkey on his back resided; easy-peasy. I watched the whole thing. I suppose I should have gone and got one of the adults to stop him, but I was only six myself and, quite honestly, was fascinated by his brilliance.

The people at the emergency room frowned a little at having to pump his stomach yet again but he was sent home, none the worse for wear.  After that, the baby aspirin was locked in the medicine cabinet.

Being denied his drug of choice, he next discovered that bleach didn’t taste nearly as bad as it smelled.

The people at the emergency room did more than frown a little this time and, after pumping his stomach yet again, he was sent home with a stern warning to my sister to be more vigilant with him. It wasn’t her fault. This kid was Houdini reincarnate. He could escape from any crib or play pen ever made. He could unlock any lock, open any door. He was a dangerous combination of incredibly intelligent, naturally curious, and totally fearless. And he got bored easily.  My sister was just a kid herself, only eighteen when he was born, and being raised by our mother had done nothing to prepare her for life as a wife and mother. Nothing could have prepared anyone for Garrett.

After the bleach incident, Garrett found a bottle of kerosene. I guess it didn’t have the same lovely bouquet as the bleach, and after a few sips he gave that one up.

The people at the emergency room pumped his stomach anyway, just to be safe, and because they hoped the experience might dissuade him from making any other forays into alternate culinary experiences.

When Bill Watterson first published Calvin and Hobbes, I was convinced that he modeled Calvin on Garrett. So many times, when reading Calvin’s adventures, I would smile and say “Garrett did that”.  Calvin’s alter ego Stupendous Man? Yep, Garrett did that.  He’d tie his blanket around his neck like a cape and attempt all manner of incredible feats, like jumping off the garage roof to see if he could fly.  Thankfully, someone did catch him and stop him that time. 

One of the funniest things I’ve ever seen in my life involved Garrett and his blanket cape. Because of my mother’s illness, I spent a lot of time at my sister’s house, which was good because it gave me someone to play with. My brother Jeff, who is only three years older, never had much use for me as anything other than a scapegoat.

 The house my sister lived in at the time had a bedroom that connected to the living room via two doors, so it made a circular path between the two rooms.  My sister and I were sitting on the sofa, she folding laundry while I read a book to her.  Garrett must have been horribly bored and looking to create a little excitement. He wandered into the living room, his blanket cape tied around his neck. He casually but deliberately walked up to my sister, hit her as hard as he could, and took off running, the cape flying behind him. Of course, she jumped up and started chasing him but you’d have better luck catching a greased piglet than you’d have catching Garrett. Around and around the rooms they went, out one door and in the other, Garrett, squealing with delight and my sister shouting threats about what she was going to do to him when she caught him. Since that wasn’t a big incentive for him to stop, he kept going; running faster and faster.  I sat on the sofa and watched in fascination. It was like a cartoon come to life. By the time he finally slowed down enough to catch him, she was laughing over the absurdity of it all. Smart kid.

Then there was the strip where Calvin jumps from the swings pretending he’s an astronaut. That one was taken directly from Garrett’s playbook. It was one of his finest moments.

I don’t recall the occasion, but the family was all gathered at my parent’s house.  Daddy was outside watching us kids, supposedly to make sure none us got injured. That’s kind of like letting a blind man drive a bus, but apparently no one else wanted the job and apathy about our safety had taken over.

We had a great swing set in the back yard, just below the concrete patio. It had three regular swings, a set of monkey bars, and a seesaw swing.  My niece Amanda and I were swinging happily together, while my brother Jeff was showing off on the monkey bars, all of us vying for daddy’s attention and approval.  Garrett was swinging on the see saw, but he was standing up on the seat, pushing the swing with his entire body weight, higher and higher. You would think, given Garrett’s daredevil history, my father would have sensed what was coming and stopped him. You see it coming, don’t you?

Sure enough, when Garrett had pushed the swing until it was flying at the top of the swing set, he decided it would be fun to jump off backward! The back flip he attempted didn’t quite make the full rotation and he landed in a heap on top of a concrete drainage culvert beside the patio.

The people in the emergency room were happy to see us, they’d missed us. They all knew Garrett well by now and looked forward to his visits. The broken arm was set into, what I believe, was his very first cast.

Garrett’s biggest feat of daring-do happened when he was just a toddler. This was in the mid 60’s, back in the days before car seats and even seat belts were the law. At the time, my brother-in-law had a little classic Chevy. The street leading to their house went up a fairly steep hill with an embankment on the right.  Marshall was heading home one day, with baby Garrett standing in the passenger seat enjoying the ride. No one knows for sure if he was playing with the door handle and accidently managed to open it, or if he suddenly decided he wanted to go for a walk but, just as the car was approaching the crest of the hill, Garrett opened the passenger door and was falling out. Panic and instinct took over and, letting go of the steering wheel, Marshall made a diving grab for his son. The two of them rolled free just as the car went tumbling over the embankment, coming to rest upside down. Apparently in his previous life, Garrett had been a Hollywood stunt man.

I loved my little nephew for a lot of reasons.  As I said before, the kid fascinated me with his brilliance. And he was such a happy little person, it made others happy to be around him. I’m naturally joyful myself, but living with my mother had taught me to squelch that particular character trait. In my household, we learned that quietness and solitude was your best hope for survival most days. Garrett was just as unable to contain his natural joyfulness as he was unable to stay away from a bottle of baby aspirin. And he took great pleasure in making others laugh.

Garrett was the first person in my life to discover that you can make me convulse with laughter using silly voices or words.  Come to think of it, he may actually be the cause of it.  He had a little word that he used all the time – kazooie! I don’t know where he got it from, I don’t know how it all began, I don’t know what it means -  all I know is, that one little word could reduce me to a puddle of uncontrolled laughter.

At the most inappropriate times, he would sneak up behind me and whisper that little word in my ear. I would immediately shriek with laughter and he would run off giggling, pleased with his conquest.  It became a game with us.

Prayer time at Thanksgiving dinner – Kazooie!

Easter Sunday church service – Kazooie!

Late at night, when we were supposed to be sleeping and I’d already gotten in trouble once for whispering – Kazooie!

Sitting in a movie theater, on a date with a really cute guy I had a major crush on – Kazooie!

I don’t know if he got his jollies from making me laugh or from getting me in trouble, but whichever one it was he really enjoyed it.

So did I.

 I didn’t mind getting yelled at if it meant I had a few moments where I could unleash my own natural happiness and just laugh. Really laugh.  It always felt so good.'

Garrett has surprisingly grown from that happy, daredevil of a kid, into one of the finest men you’d ever hope to meet. He’s a dedicated family man with three beautiful children of his own. His calm, happy demeanor and the example he had in his own father and grandfathers, makes him an incredible dad in his own right. We are all so proud of him.

When my daughter passed away, he was there at her funeral. I’m told it was he who picked me up and carried me to the car when I fainted at the cemetery. After the burial, the family was escorted back to the church where the good ladies there had prepared a meal for us – it’s a southern thing. I was sitting, staring blankly at the plate of food in front of me.  I hadn’t eaten a bite in three days and quite frankly didn’t care if I ever ate again. My boyfriend, my son, my brother and sister were all coaxing and cajoling me to take at least a few bites so I wouldn’t pass out again. It was getting on my already frayed nerves. I just wanted everyone to leave me alone!

Out of nowhere, I felt warm hands clasping my shoulders as the person behind me bent down to whisper in my ear. “Hey, Aunt Lisa……Kazooie!”  I dissolved into a torrent of giggles as everyone around me looked as if I had truly gone insane.

It wasn’t Garrett who had delivered the blow, but rather his son, Houston. The Great Kazooie had passed the torch. It didn’t matter to me, it had the same effect.  It felt good. When I could finally stop laughing, I picked up my fork and ate the first real meal I’d had in a week. Laughter truly is the best medicine.

 For weeks afterward, I’d open up my Facebook page to find that Houston or Garrett one had posted a big “KAZOOIE” on my wall. They can’t know how much that small gesture meant to me.  It reminded me that laughter and happiness had always been and still were mine and that I would find my way back to them one day.