Hawks Don’t Carry Rocks

 Juice and Joy for Monday, January 10, 2011 

“Hawks don’t carry rocks.”

TJ, a twenty year old young man with legs as long as his unemployment history is sitting in my office thinking through some worries he’s been dealing with. He looks around, studying every minute detail of things on the walls, table tops and shelves.

“Do people ever call you rocky,” TJ asks with a smile?
“Rocky? Why would anyone ever call me that,” I replied?
”Because you got all these freakin rocks all over the place, That’s why…just askin…”

“Oh funny,” I tell him. “That name never occurred to me.”

”Well it should. So what’s the reason,” he asks, pressing on the topic?

I was about to answer  him when CJ’s friend, Cherrie, who came in with him, starts waving her arms as if to stop the conversation and says to TJ, officerocks

“You idiot! They’re rocks! Rocks are good, they have energy and shit in’m…right,” as she looks in my direction? 

“Ah…right, That’s exactly right,”I tell her. And then, as a qualifier,  I said, “But I don’t know about the shit part.”

”Oh Sorry,” she said, realizing she had sworn.

”You rag’inon Kevin’s rocks,” asks TJ?

“No I ain’t,” Cherrie says. “Look, how many years you been coming in this office and you mean to tell me you ain’t never seen them before?”

“Nope,” says TJ. And with her trademark wall to wall grin, Cherrie says, “Well you’re stupid then.”

”Yeah,” TJ says,”whatever.”

Sensing it’s time to move the conversation, I asked, “It’s great to see you both again, but, what brings you in?”

TJ sighs, then clenches his fists and says, “My dad. He’s back in jail again.”

”Drugs,” I ask?

”Drugs…and this time he rolled a dude, so he’s in on that, too.”

The conversation continued, and we discussed whether or not TJ would go in to visit his dad. Near the end of the meeting TJ stood up and approached a basket of beach stones that people have brought in over the years. There’s a little sign on the side that says, ”Take a stone, you’ll feel better.”

TJ grabs a fist sized round rock and says, “Can I take this one and beat my dad in the f—ing head with it?”

”No,” I tell him. “That’s not a good idea.”

TJ grins and says, “Then I’ll bring him this little one. It’s smooth.”

”You can try, “ I tell him. “But I doubt they’ll let you bring it in. Besides, he needs treatment now, not rocks.”

“Like that’ll ever happen,” TJ said, in a tone I could barely hear. “Then I’ll take this one for myself. I like it.”

Ready Cherrie?  “Gotta bounce, Kev,…see ya.”

Kevin Lee

The phrase, “hawks don’t carry rocks,” is recovery term used in treatment. The names are changed and details altered in this story.

Note: At 11:05 AM (Eastern time) today, which will be five minutes after President Obama leads the nation in a moment of silence, a special post marking the events of a tragic weekend will appear here by me.

Author: Kevin Lee

In a nutshell, Kevin fesses up to the following: He's a retired youth advocate-counselor, a blogger, writer, photographer, rower, Friends Minister, grandpa of six and married to a terrific woman for 43 years and counting!

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