My Son, The Chicken

My family has a sense of humor, even in death.

Nearly two years ago, my father lost his 2 1/2 year battle with Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. He had fought a gallant battle and withstood three rounds of chemo and 81 radiation treatments. Our family had chosen to view his cancer as a “teacher” and cherished all the time we had with him. Every holiday, birthday and event took on a new, more purposeful meaning.

For me, the term, “rank it” became more relevant. Traffic bad? It would receive a ranking of “2.” Get upset with someone? Perhaps that would receive a “3” ranking. Dad’s cancer? I gave it an “8.” It received a higher ranking because we knew he was dying, it would be a terrible loss for all of us, but it did not receive a “9” or “10” because dying is, after all, part of the circle of life.

When he had died, we really put a lot of thought and meaning behind each of the items involved: the wreath we displayed with red, white and blue flowers symbolizing his time in the military and our family’s love of celebrating the 4th of July each year.

The program had his coaching motto on it: “Play Hard. Play Smart. Have Fun. Be #1” and photos and expressions of our love and our senses of humor, too.

We held a memorial service one day (with students, players, coaches and childhood friends and family), a religious service at church on another (with whomever wanted to attend) and lastly, we held a burial service with the immediate family on a third and final day honoring and celebrating this wonderful man’s journey through life. 

At his military service, there was a 21-gun salute. Taps were played. We had to leave the cemetery while his casket was lowered into the ground, as is the tradition. During that time we headed into Old Sacramento to eat lunch. My mom, three siblings and their families, as well as my children and I were all in attendance. We reflected, as we often do, on the past week’s events. We were emotionally drained but content that we had really honored our husband, dad, grandpa and coach.

To kill a few hours, we walked throughout the town of Old Sacramento. It was very hot, even for an August summer day with the thermometer approaching 100 degrees. We went in and out of shops and chatted amicably.

At one point my son and I found ourselves in a very large store standing amidst a vast array of detailed costumes. Halloween was not something currently on our minds as we perused the aisles. However, at one point we stood in front of a large chicken costume. It had a realistic rubber chicken mask, a furry yellow “suit,” red leggings and giant rubber chicken feet. We laughed when we looked at it.

Troy jokingly said, “Mom will you buy that for me?”

I hesitated.

He sensed my hesitation and said, “Look, it’s on sale!” Sale meant it was not the originally priced $200 but a “mere” $115. That’s a hefty price tag for anyone, but for a single parent and teacher with one child currently in college and another two soon approaching, an expensive costume was not in my budget. And yet…

Inside my head I found myself thinking that this chicken suit would make a great costume for Troy. He could use it for Halloween and pull pranks and have fun while in his leadership class during his senior year of high school. He could then take it to college for further amusement.

I looked at him and found myself saying, “If you put it on right now and walk through downtown Sacramento I will buy it for you. You can go up to grandma, your aunts, uncles and cousins and tease them.”

I started laughing at this ridiculous idea, hoping he’d do it, as we all needed a little comic relief in our lives at that point. I remember thinking, how can you put a price on a great memory that was about to be created for the entire family?

“OK,” he eagerly replied.

I purchased the suit and handed it over to him. We walked to the back of the store near the dressing rooms and he changed. Well, he didn’t actually change, he put it on over his gravesite attire.

He was sweating before we even stepped out onto the wooden planked sidewalk in the blistering heat. I was laughing really hard at this point but remained far behind so any family members would not associate he and I as a mother/son combo or should I say mother/chicken?

First, he walked down the hard wood. He lifted each rubberized chicken foot high into the air and dramatically placed it upon the ground (which with his 6-foot 2- inch tall frame was really quite realistic, I might add).

Complete strangers were chuckling as he traipsed along. He began to bob his rubberized chicken head forward and back, forward and back, forward and back as he approached the crosswalk (I could just imagine his clucking!). It just so happened my sister and mom were crossing the street from the opposite direction and headed towards Troy the chicken (a.k.a. my son).

He approached them and did a shy sort of wave at them. They both looked and laughed at the gangly chicken standing before them. He then bobbed his head forward, back, forward, back, which encouraged further laughter from the pair of spectators.

I loved being able to see the two of them laugh, especially my mom. Troy the Chicken continued to entertain them and then I let the cat out of the bag, which caused them to laugh even more so.

We decided to leave Troy to further torment others while my mom, sister and I collected ourselves like a game of sardines across the street. We had a great vantage point for viewing Troy with other members of our family.

Soon we were joined by my brother, his wife, my other sister, my two daughers and others. Off into the distance we saw my brother-in-law Dan and my nephew, Ryan, approaching Troy the Chicken across the street.

First a bit of background: My nephew, Ryan, HATES people who dress up like characters. He finds them annoying as all get out. Dan, my brother-in-law, has a sense of humor and full belly laugh that my kids and I imitate just to make ourselves laugh.

Well, the pair of them were approaching Troy who again did his shy, timid wave as they walked by. Ryan and Dan did not respond. Troy the Chicken then passed them by but immediately turned around so he was directly behind them. In fact, his rubber beak was nearly touching the backs of their heads. He tapped them with his beak. They turned around and looked at him. They were not amused and chose to ignore Troy the Chicken and continue walking. Troy then pecked at them again and when they turned he gracefully flapped his furry "wings." Again, no response other than looking very irritated.

Meanwhile, my mom, brother, sisters, sister-in-law, nieces, nephews, daughters and myself doubled over in pain, chortling and choking. We had tears streaming down our faces as we were spying on the father/son combo with Troy the Chicken, who had now once again begun his chicken walk with his gawky stride.

He continued to follow closely behind the two of them. Just as my nephew looks like he's been pushed to the point of punching my son, Troy the Chicken, stops. My son had pulled back the rubber mask to reveal his now sweat-soaked flushed face. He had a giant grin spread across it and the looks of surprise turned to immediate amusement from both Ryan and Dan as they began laughing out loud. They then noticed the rest of us across the street and joined us in continued laughter and the retelling of the episode which had just unfolded before one another.

Somehow, it seemed the perfect memorable ending to a "new kind of normal" day without our husband, father, grandpa and coach.

The cost of amusing family with Troy the Chicken? Priceless.

To view my blog, click here.