A Couple of Meetings with Morrissey (and a Perceptive Little Boy)

Another day of Heath not taking a nap. I did, however, get him to lie down on the bed for a little reading time. He is deeply immersed in his current book, Cars the Collection, and spends much time perusing the pictures of the characters, pointing to various vehicles that he needs to get next time we're at Target.

I took the quiet time as an opportunity to continue on with Meetings with Morrissey. When I got to the midsection of Chapter 3, Used to be a Sweet Boy, I found various black and white photos of Moz. Some alone. One of himself, lying in the middle of the floor, pictures of Oscar Wilde strewn about. A couple with Johnny Marr. The shots diverted Heath's attention away from his I need that one, no, that one ramblings. He peeked over my shoulder and pointed at the skinny fellow singing into a microphone.

Who's that? he asked.

That's Morrissey, lead singer for The Smiths. His little fingers reached across my arm and turned the page to see the additional pictures.

You're friends with him? I've grown accustomed to this question. It's never asked when I run into someone I know at the grocery store. It's always someone with some amount of relative fame. And the answer is always no.

He's afraid, Heath said, matter-of-factly. I thought maybe I misunderstood, and it was a question--is he afraid? So I got him to say it again.

He's afraid, he stated again. I looked at the picture, particularly Morrisey's young eyes. It was a publicity shot in 1984, and I have to say, Heath was right. He looked scared, vulnerable.

Why do you think he's afraid? I asked.

He's afraid I might talk to him.

And then Heath got a little gibberishy/silly, and then quickly returned to his catalog/wishlist.

We ate dinner at good ole Lupie's tonight. Vegetable plates all around. Guess what they were playing? Morrissey.