The other day, I saw a person standing outside a municipal building in Falmouth and didn’t recognize that it was my son. Duh.
In my own defense, rarely do I see Flargh-boy in actual daylight, so I’ve probably forgotten what he looks like in a “normal” setting. He is usually sitting down, in the middle of Kristalnacht-like chaos, dressed in pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, staring at a computer screen.
I am also used to seeing him while his chi is being mangled by one or more shrieking or sulking children. These are by the way highly intelligent, creative children who nonetheless do not grasp that they live in a house with multiple floors, multiple rooms and a large fenced-in yard and, thus, do not have to share the same space as Daddy.
But I digress: given my recent experience, I can somewhat relate to the parents who thought they’d buried their son, Kevin Wickoff, an inmate who’d committed suicide at the Lexington, Oklahoma, Assessment and Reception Center. They thought they buried him – until they got a phonecall from none other than Kevin himself right after his funeral.
Mr. and Mrs. Charles Wickoff were “stunned” all right.
“Huh. Well, damn boy. We just had your funeral today,” his father said, according to the transcript of the call. “Well, what the hell is going on?”
Kevin Wickoff’s mother was similarly unsentimental: “Kevin, I can not believe this. We buried you today, boy.” and “OK. Somebody’s in deep trouble.”
The Corrections Department is trying to sort out this case of mistaken identity. Meanwhile, spokesman Jerry Massie told reporters that the family may have to file a claim to be reimbursed for funeral expenses.
Massie said. “We can’t just write them a check.”
Tough crowd in Oklahoma.