Bless their hearts

My son, 16, got his license today. His real one, the kind where you don't have to have your mum the backseat driver bugging you about leaving more distance between your car and the one ahead or unfurling impromptu lectures about the dangers of drinking or doing ANYTHING while driving or drinking, PERIOD.

Bless his pea-picking heart.

There's a spring in his step. He didn't whine about a single chore. If he could whistle while brushing his teeth, he'd do it. He's standing up straighter -- he looks to be about a head taller, five-foot-ten and hoping for an even six foot. Every teenaged pore seems to ooze the news -- he's not a kid any more.

Bless his heart.

He's already got plans for souping up his inherited 2000 Chevy with a better sound system that fits his iPod. The car's maroon, like the school colors, like his letter jacket with the fuzzy tennis rackets that says "District Boys Singles Champion" in maroon embroidery on the grey field -- the one that he wears even with shorts in the Texas heat despites its felt and its maroon leather.
In his spare moments, Patrick's reading the book I bought him called "So You Want To Be A Doctor" -- the medical field has captured his imagination after watching every single possible episode of the family's favorite show, House M.D. He's loaded his school schedule with every possible AP class and science and math, and he's making A's in every one of them, having connected the dots between grades and money for a bio-chemistry major.

And while the snarling, sneering monster of teenagedom rears its nasty head on occasions that are getting rarer all the time, little outbursts of sarcasm tinged with his own intelligent way of looking at the world he's rapidly growing up to, I see him purposefully striding toward adult status and navigating his way around the obstacles of temptation that so easily beset today's youth.

I remember the fair-haired, blue-eyed child of a dozen years ago, how he was so sweet-looking and irresistible that total strangers wanted to pat his head, the days when he starred as Ralphie Parker in the Ennis Public Theatre production of A Christmas Story. The time we were at the movies and an elderly gentleman came up to Patrick and patted his head, right there in front of us, and said "Looks like such a nice intelligent boy," and walked away.

I remember all those things and like Mary, I ponder them in my heart. and I think, Bless his heart.

I interviewed Sam and Kathy Harrell yesterday. Sam's one of the winningest coaches in Texas high school football history -- he coached the maroon boys, the Ennis Lions, to three state championships between 2000 and 2005.

And out of those Friday night lights, the most promising player to emerge to date was his son, quarterback Graham. Up for a possible Heisman, the Texas Tech Red Raider record-breaker is being courted for NFL stardom by a flock of Jerry Maguires.

Who knew?

When the Harrells recently moved into a new home in Ennis’ Oak Creek subdivision, Kathy ran across her son Graham’s favorite poster from his childhood days.

It was the shape of things to come.

At the bottom of the huge picture of Joe Montana, the fourth-grader and future Texas Tech record-setting quarterback had stuck a home-made label that read: “Graham Harrell – the next Joe Montana.”

“I remember thinking, ‘Bless his heart, he thinks he can play in the NFL!’ I didn’t want to burst his bubble, but I kind of felt a little hurt for him,” Kathy Harrell said, unconsciously putting her hand up to her heart.

To her credit, she didn't smack him down and put him in his place, nor did she take the opposite stance of hero-worship. At every stage, the Harrell have enjoyed their son's successes, without getting caught up in the idea that -- lo, and behold -- has come to pass.

Little Graham Harrell is all grown up, a dozen years later, standing within reach of that boyhood goal. He’s the nation's leading passer with 393.4 yards per game, moving into fourth place on the NCAA career passing yardage list with 13,829 yards. He has set school career marks in touchdown passes (117) and career touchdowns responsible for (129) and is the nation's active leader in both categories.

And pretty doggone sweet and unspoiled still, for all of it.

All's I'm saying is, sometimes you never know.

Bless our children's hearts.