Glimpses of Davis

I couldn't settle on a title for this post. I started to call it "Jedi Mind Trick" in honor of this first story I wanted to tell you:

"Jedi Mind Trick"

Soon after Walter and I arrived for Beer Bike on Palm Sunday, we went out to the track with Davis to check conditions.

Windy, but dry. Check.
Stacked hay bales on the dangerous corners for cushioning during crashes. Check.
Lanes chalked with spirit-filled slogans. Check.

We then headed up into Rice Stadium (not officially part of the course, but for years Will Race and Jones racers have watched the festivities and gotten ready for the race up on the second deck concourse overlooking the track). Uh oh. The gate was locked tight. We walked around to the gate on the far side of the stadium, found one open entrance, and let ourselves in. As we walked back around to the side overlooking the bike track, Davis strode ahead of us, leading the way. Within moments, an official looking electric cart with an official looking groundskeeper zipped up next to Davis. From a distance it looked like he was giving Davis "what for" and asking him to leave immediately.

Davis responded. I couldn't hear how the conversation went. I think it was something like this:



By the time we caught up to the cart, the groundskeeper's body language had changed and he said something like, "Your can go about your business." I might even have heard him say "Move along."

Or I might have called it:

"Two Hours."

I never want to imply to Davis that I need him to come home, but I do like to know when it's going to happen, especially now that he often brings EVI, so that I can change the linens before they arrive. When we saw them at Beer/Bike their plans were still up in the air: either they would come home together for Easter or Davis would come home alone the following weekend for his birthday (when EVI had an Ultimate Frisbee tournament in Dallas).

I knew they had Maundy Thursday and Good Friday off from school and figured they'd choose Easter, but I didn't hear from them on Wednesday or Thursday. When Davis called on Friday afternoon, he didn't mention his travel plans at all. I didn't want to be pushy, so as the call drew to a close, I said, "Well, just give me a call whenever you are two hours away." He broke into hysterical peals of laughter, that I, frankly, didn't understand. "What? Why are you laughing," I responded, "I just want a little warning before you get here."

He said, "That's not what you said. You said, 'let me know when you are two hours away,' and I was just imagining the set of all the points I could be that I would be two hours away from you and how much trouble it would be to call every time I moved a step or two. In my room, two hours away. In class, two hours away. At the gym, two hours away."

I guess that's math humor.

The final option for a title would have been:

"The Natural"

My mom gave Davis his birthday presents early. One was some juggling balls and an instruction manual. Davis looked at the box and started to work out how to get through all the packaging to the balls. He said, "I heard somewhere that juggling is an innate talent. You can either naturally do it or you can't." Then he liberated the three balls and started juggling. He made about fifteen successful tosses before he stopped. I was holding a camera and was too stunned to catch a photo or even a little strip of video. He was as completely surprised as we were and refused to try again for the camera. Eventually, I put the camera away and cajoled him into trying again. He did better than EVI or I could on his second and third try, but it was clear that he was a novice, a novice with innate talent.