During this last week in March, the elder Carr daughter left her abode in Manhattan and came to see Judy and myself. She was accompanied by the afore-said Will-Yam who is her son. I know a good bit about Will-Yam in that I watched Maureen, better known as Blondie, progressing through all of the stages of pregnancy, which I also did for her elder son. When Maureen would come to visit us in Short Hills, they would ride the Lackawanna train and I would pick them up at the Millburn station. Well, the net effect is that I have known Will-Yam even before he was born.
The visit this week evoked a few memories of Will-yam that should be recorded. One of my earlier recollections has to do with Will-Yam riding a tricycle in our basement. He was slim enough to peddle the tricycle behind the furnace. No one had ever gone there before. He emerged intact. He thought that was great sport. There were occasions when I had a big board that I used to show Will-Yam and his brother Andrew how to bore a hole. Andrew was greatly interested in the drill; Will-Yam was diffident except when it came to be his turn. On those occasions it was hard to retrieve the drill from Will-Yam in that he was drilling holes all over that little board.
Then there was the occasion of Thanksgiving. As most people know, I am a vegetarian who eats only vegetables and fish, no meats and no fowl. Will-Yam had demanded to know why I did not eat a turkey like his mother and father ate. He seemed to regard it as an un-American act. So a story was necessary to allay his fears. I explained to Will-Yam that when this country was discovered in 1492, the cranberry trees grew very close to the ocean. When the cranberries ripened, lobsters would emerge from the water and climb the trees. The lobsters would gorge themselves on the ripe cranberries and in so doing they would lose their balance and fall off the cranberry trees and hit their heads, thus killing themselves. The American Indians would gather the dead lobsters as a means of preserving sanitation. They also ate them. So, I explained to Will-Yam that all I was doing was honoring a custom that went back to 1492.
Will-Yam did not seem to embrace my account of history.
There was another time when Will-Yam attended the Day School in Manhattan. On one occasion when I was in New York, I picked up Will-Yam at school and started to walk the several blocks in New York to his apartment. He had a purpose in mind. He took me by a furniture store that had a magnificent chess table on display. Somehow or another, old Will-Yam, aged five or six, knew about that table and he wanted me to see it. He took me into the store and showed it to me. I admired it and I thought it was a lovely piece of work.
I believe that on the occasion when we viewed the chess table, I also tried to confuse Will-Yam about where he lived. But even at that young age, Will-Yam would not be confused about where his apartment was. As we stood on the street corner, I explained to a New York City cop that Will-Yam was abducting me. The New York City cop said something like, “That’s all right. Write me a note when you get to the place where you are going to be held.” The policeman, Will-Yam, and I all enjoyed the big joke.
Will-Yam’s parents are good cooks. In Will-Yam’s room he had a set of utensils and dishes that mimicked his parents’ set. They were play dishes of course, but nonetheless old Will-Yam was learning to cook at an early age. So on one occasion, Will-Yam invited me to his restaurant and stirred the imaginary dish that he was serving and I ate it in an imaginary way. When I finished the imaginary dish, I turned the bowl over and put it on the top of my head. I thought that was the proper thing to do. However, Will-Yam thought that that was atrocious. When his father came home from work, he could not wait to tell his father, Walter, what Pop had done. In other words, old Will-Yam ratted on me. That’s all right in that I forgave him for his transgression.
I will try to save you from the futile expression, “How time flies!” It was my privilege to observe Maureen’s pregnancy and then to be there shortly after Will-Yam appeared in this world. That was approximately 17 years ago. In the meantime, old Will-Yam has grown into what I am told is a strapping six-footer who loves to play lacrosse. My guess is that Will-Yam, in spite of his being my grandson, has turned out to be a good kid.
It is trite to say that time flies, but that is pretty much the case. But when the results are a good-looking fellow who is well-educated and has attained the age of 17 years, I can only say that it was well worth while. I know that my memories of Will-Yam may not be interesting to all of you. But they are to me and I am the writer of these essays, so that is pretty much all that counts.
I hope that this recounting of Will-Yam’s growth brings back memories of your own. All I can tell you is that children don’t remain children very long. That should come as no surprise to any of you. All of my five grandsons are good fellows. Will-Yam is no exception but he has been tainted by my story of the lobsters climbing the trees when this country was discovered. My guess is that he may well have repeated this story to his teachers, which should have earned him an A+.
Now, about the pronunciation of Will-Yam’s name. As he was starting to talk, old Will-Yam insisted on putting the accent in his maiden name on the second syllable. He has outgrown this now, and goes by the name of Will. But my memories are long, and I very much liked the name of Will-Yam, with the accent on the second syllable. I hope that this straightens out the message, “Fond memories of Will-Yam.”
E. E. CARR
April 2, 2010
Essay 447
~~
Kevin’s commentary: Growing up so far away from New Jersey meant that Pop had significantly less opportunities to attempt to sabotage my developing brain as a child. This is something I regret somewhat, because he seems to have been pretty good at it.
Now as for the pronunciation, I am curious whether it was more of a “Yam or