Today is Marcus Day

Last night Barbel called and asked specifically about my 8-year-old grandson, the one with the long eyelashes and the blue eyes.  "Does he still look like an angel?" she asked.

He does.

Day had written an e-mail earlier in the day saying that Marcus is having a hard time in third grade--not because he's struggling academically, but because some of the kids in his class don't "get him."  For one thing, he loves to dance.  He's creative and sensitive;  he feels sad when his friends tease him about dancing.  He loves to play video games, and he loves stuffed animals. Day wanted me to encourage him to take dance classes, so I called him today to do that.  "Can we talk every Friday?" he wanted to know.

When anyone I love is in trouble--even if it's brought about by a bunch of mean third graders who laugh at differences--I think about that person all through the day.  I try to figure out what kind of gift would deliver a tangible substitute for a hug.

Since he was very small, Marcus has loved jewelry and cool hats.  When we go to crafts shows and flea markets, you can always find Marcus looking at rings and hats.  And so today, I went to Kathleen Sommers and bought Marcus a "worry ring" made by an artist whose work they were showcasing.  Since he's worrying, I suggested that turning the outer rings might help him relax--but I preferred to call it a love ring, so that when he turns the rings, he'll remember all the people who love him exactly as he is.

I told him on the phone I was sending him a little present and that I hoped he'd like it. He said, "I know I will; you always pick the awesomest stuff."

I decided to proclaim today Marcus Day--even though his birthday is months away--and I found it was much more fun than the rushing-around last minute shopping that precedes birthdays and Christmas. Since I was the only customer at Kathleen's on this cold, cold day, I told the three women helping me choose a boy ring about Marcus' hard time in third grade.  Every one of them had a story about herself or her child being made fun of by classmates at that same age, one (also eight this year) for wearing clothes that were too "artsy."

"I might not see you for two years," Marcus said.  "Cause we're going to Cape Cod this summer and  to the Grand Canyon next.  But when you see me, you're going to notice how much I've advanced with my dancing."

"How about I come see you when you're in Cape Cod, or before?" I asked.  "Because you know I'm not going to wait two years to see you!"

"That would be totally awesome!" he said.

At this moment, I can't think of anything that would be more totally awesome than sitting on a  Cape Cod beach watching Marcus dancing in the sand.