"Pumped"?

IN case NE1 mighta been wondering, Mike had some more 2 say in a comment last nite:

April,

Little sis. Sometimes in a good conversation, when you get to a lull, you suddenly come to the realization that things have been happening you have been ignoring because of your involvement in the conversation. For example, when I was talking to our Grandpa Jim about my book, I hit such a lull and I suddenly realized Grandpa Jim’s hair was pushed back on his head almost behind his ears. I looked at his mouth and it appeared as though his dentures had been pushed back into his mouth so his lips were lolling over them. Yes, they were lolling during the lull. Even Iris was standing with her back to the wall as if she had been pushed away from our conversation by some force. Then I realized what had happened. I had been speaking so quickly and so enthusiastically, the sheer force of my verbal output had pushed back Grandpa Jim’s dentures and hair; and had pushed Iris to the wall. Of course, I immediately apologized.

I said, “Sorry, Grandpa—I’ve been talking way too fast! It’s just that I’m so…” Then my mind started to reach for a word like “excited” or “enthused”, but my Patterson heritage simply would not allow that. A pun must be made. If I have been creating an unusual airflow with the rapidity of my conversation, then obviously I must be “pumped", as in To propel, eject, or insert with or as if with a pump and that would have the secondary meaning of “pumped” as in Really excited. Two meanings = One great pun.

One of the little known problems with aphasia is apparently the inability to laugh with a sticky-out tongue at a great pun. All Grandpa Jim could manage was an “Uh!” So, I started to explain it to him. I said, “You know…pumped? Like, really excited?” I was about to launch into definition #2 to complete the map of the pun’s double-meaning, when Grandpa Jim put his hands forward palms first as if he was trying to push me away, or he was trying to show me his technique for doing a breast exam or he was trying to demonstrate another meaning of “pumped” like in Physics where it means To raise (atoms or molecules) to a higher energy level by exposing them to electromagnetic radiation at a resonant frequency. I sat there for awhile trying to interpret his hand motions and while I sat there I could feel my buttocks getting bigger from the lethargy. Actually it was only my left buttock. I hate when that happens after sitting someplace for a long time. It gives you a strange half-female / half-male look, until the swelling goes away. You don’t know humility, little sis, until you have had strangers on the street point at you and call you hermaphrodite. Fortunately, Iris intervened because she was able to understand what Grandpa Jim’s hand gestures meant. She said, “Yes, dear. I’ll get it for you.”

Then she picked a book with the words Picture Pallet (French words) and said, “He finds pictures useful when he can’t express himself.” That sentence struck me with fear, little sis. You are too young to remember this, but when I was young and I explored Grandpa Jim’s old workshop when he used to live with Grandma Marian, I found Grandpa Jim’s picture book which had French words on it. Needless to say, they were pictures I certainly did not want to look at with Iris and Grandpa Jim looking on.

I was greatly relieved to see the picture book was actually a book of pictures of household or other ordinary objects and not pictures of slutty French girls doing naughty things with baguettes and croissants. Iris handed Grandpa Jim the book and then stood behind his chair and grabbed his right arm as his fingers moved across the pictures in the book. I think Iris must have thought that by going behind the chair, I would not be aware of the fact she was moving Grandpa Jim’s pointing hand by keeping a controlling hand on his right arm. For a brief moment darkness fell on me, and I imagined a silhouette which bore a striking resemblance to Grandpa Jim with the extended chin, loose collar, and stray hairs on the front of his head. Only I knew the silhouette was actually me. I could see myself the same age as Grandpa Jim with Deanna standing behind me, supporting me, and she moved my arm to whatever picture she wanted me to say. “A horrible way to go,” I thought and I immediately felt pity for my grandpa. I faded back into reality and I heard Iris say, “What’s that, Jim? …He’s pointing to a car…and…a gas station!”

Little sis. Your brother is not stupid. I could tell Iris was going to interpret the car and the gas station as Grandpa Jim is running out of gas and needs a dinner fill-up, or some sort of environmental statement on how they take the bus everywhere, or just to tell me Grandpa Jim is a little gassy and I might want to cover my nose. But before Iris could even get to her particularly poor brand of humour, I decided to leap forward, grab Grandpa Jim by the shoulders and said, “Thanks Grandpa---I’m glad you’re pumped too!!” I could tell Iris was upset I had trumped her humourous statement, because her whole appearance suddenly darkened. It didn’t matter to me. Standing in front of me was a man who appreciated the fact I had managed to outpun his controlling wife. His radiant grin at me was all the affirmation I needed.

That’s almost all I have to say about my visit with Grandpa Jim and Iris; but I do have a little bit left I will save to tell you tomorrow.

Love,
Michael Patterson

Aw, d00dz, I was having so much more fun thinkin' of Gramps cursing Mike out than B-ing all happy 4 him. Weren't U?

Apes