This is Squish.

He is seven years old

I met this young man at The Palace in Louisville where we both ended up in “the pit” to see the Weird Al performance. Before the concert, I see him flipping the pages of the latest issue of MAD magazine, the one guest-edited by Weird Al, the first time MAD magazine has ever turned over the reins of the whole publication to any other entity other than its own staff. If he was a fan of both he would know this. I am sure that he is not aware of this piece of trivia.

I decide not to hold him accountable for this.

He is seven years old.

During the concert, he is completely absorbed by everything that is happening on the stage. He lip syncs to every song. Every song. He “plays along” on his toy accordian. He postures like he should be on stage. He stands on his chair and is corrected by security.

He is seven years old.

After the concert, I ask his mother if I could have permission to take a picture of the boy in the costume. His mother tells me his name is “Squish.” She asks Squish–who is now waiting like me to meet Weird Al–to put his magazine down so that I can take his picture. I’m thinking that I want to make some kind of connection between what I have seen hear and literacy. It is what I do. I am not seven years old

Squish is seven years old.

As we line up for the Weird Al Meet-and-Greet, I am now in line with Squish. Not physically and psychologically-engaged with the concert, I am now becoming fully-aware that Squish is seven-years-old. There is a lot of energy here.

I talk to his mother about his costume. I learn that Squish is pretty well-known in Louisville. Having dressed up like Prince a few months earlier, Squish stands on stage with the artist. This is Squish’s first MAD magazine. She doesn’t think he gets most of the jokes, but he LOVES comic books and she knew that Weird Al on the cover would be something Squish would want to have.

And, recently, Squish has applied for a spot within the Guiness Book of World Records for having given and received the most high-fives during a public event. That event was Bonaroo, a music festival that hearkens back to Woodstock for its all-day, all-night music and festivities.

Squish is a regular attendee.

Squish is seven years old.

I’m as eager to meet Weird Al as Squish. I want to tell Al that I have grown up with this work. That each project he produces becomes like a “weird kind of home to me.” But, I have to wait my turn. I am forty-five. I am adult. I have to stand in line with Squish. And it is a delightful disraction to the slow-moving line.

In an effort to keep Squish busy during the wait time, we talk about the concert and music in general. I have to ask if Squish has a favorite band. He does. The Beastie Boys. I decide to have some fun with him and ask him if he likes LICENSE TO ILL or does he appreciate more the stylings of PAUL’S BOUTIQUE wherein the Boys let us in on the secret that they could play their own instruments.

This is when Squish begins to recite–word-for-word–“Paul Revere” a track from the Beastie Boys’s first album. Squish is rapping it out and looking at me with a mix of I-want-you-to-be-impressed-by-this and I-want-you-to-listen-with-your-eyes-mister.

He knows everyword. He changes pitch with each of the three rappers on the song.

He is seven years old.

Our interaction takes a turn when we find out that Squish’s mother’s phone has a battery that is actively dying. The phone may not have sufficient battery to produce a flash for the picture for which Squish is waiting. I recognize the need right away. I can help. I am an adult.

I let security use my phone to take pictures of Squish and Al. After we leave the line, I get the mother’s contact information and send the pictures to her right away so that the task is not lost in the business of the next post-Weird Al day of summer vacation. Before we leave, I ask Squish’s mother if I can blog about our interaction. She gives concent and asks that I use his name, “Squish” and not his given name. And would I send her a link to the blog when it is finished? She likes to archive these kinds of mentions for Squish.

This is that blog. I am mentioning Squish.

He is seven years old.

And you would think that would be the end of the story. Chance encounter with a kid dressed like Weird Al for a concert. It’s all context and coincidence.

But I ran into Squish again. Exactly one week after the Weird Al concert I see a young man and his mother at Heine Bros Coffee on Bardstown Road. I don’t immediately recognize Squish as he is in his seven-year-old costume. But I note that he has his scooter and helmet at the small table next to him. I note that he is not sitting in his chair. I note that he is probably riding the high of a Chaiberg (a Heine Bros specialty).

I cannot let this encounter go. I remember that I still have his mother’s contact information under “Squish’s Mom” in my phone. I send a message: “Are you by any chance at Heine Bros Coffee right now?” I see her reach down and tap her phone with her finger with the incoming message that has just lit upon her screen. She begins to look about the coffee shop and we make eye contact and smile. We are all in the same place. Again.

Squish is slow to warm to a conversation with an adult here. This is coincidence to see one another again. Context is missing.

I am an adult.

He is seven years old.

If there is going to be an interaction here, I had better talk about something a seven-year-old would like. The scooter. I’m in as he relates five quick stories about the scooter and some epic attempts to take jumps with it.

Without the concert to debrief and having exhausted tales of scooter prowess, I go to my fail-safe topic for young people: books. What kind of books do you like? What are you reading right now? Squish has just finished the STAR WARS ENCYCLOPEDIA. It’s a favorite of his. He reads it over and over. His “very favorite” character is Yoda (mine too).

My friend, Teri Lesesne, would be proud of me as I launch into “ladder” mode with Squish. I ask the mother for permission to send along new titles for Squish to read based upon his interest of STAR WARS (he has seen all of the films–which were a first-time-ever viewing for his mother). For the next five minutes, we are talking about the Jeffrey Brown series of books from the comic picture books that would compliment his interest in panel comics and humor to the chapter books that follow a young padwan (the third book is coming soon) to the Tom Angelberger ORIGAMI YODA books. Squish’s eyes light up at the mention of “origami” and I begin to sense that this a literary marriage made in seven-year-old heaven for Squish. We go on to talk about the website and “Super Folders.” I give the link to his mother so they can look at this site later.

We talk about Tony DeTerlizzi’s picture book, one of THE first picture books about the film that has garnered real critical acclaim. We talk about the EPIC YARN series of books that present the original trilogy in  single-word pages featuring felt-rendered characters.

As I am sharing, I envision Squish as a teen watching SPACEBALLS for the first time, an amalgamation of his budding interest in MAD magazine and satire. I hope that we know each other in ten years so that I can recommend Gae Polisner’s THE PULL OF GRAVITY to him.

This is what I do. I am a literacy leader. I am someone you might meet when you’re walking down the street.

Squish is a reader. He is seven years old. Up until a few minutes ago, he was not aware that a treasure-trove of titles related to STAR WARS existed.

Here’s an important point to make about Squish. A point–not a criticism. Squish is home-schooled. The point is this: I got to be a part of Squish’s lesson in one short interaction. A lesson that I would hope would last a reading lifetime. The day Squish learned about more books related to a subject of interest for him. Are we ready to share these kinds of lessons? Do we have titles on the tips of our tongues–ready to share with a reader who might appreciate them? Do we remember what it was like to be seven?

I do.

Once. . .I was seven-years-old.

I loved CRACKED and MAD magazines. I would read TV Guide each week cover-to-cover.

And I could sing Barry Manilow songs. Word-for-word (no–I did not dress up like Manilow, nor did I ever see him live).

In the book, TUESDAYS WITH MORRIE, mentor Morrie tells student Mitch that he (Morrie) is every age up to the one he is now. It is the beauty of growing older, this idea that we can embrace aging by delighting in  times when it is appropriate to be seven. And when it is appropriate to be forty-five.

Squish will not be running into a classroom this fall. But there are a multitude of seven-year-olds who will. None will be wearing Weird Al costumes. This is no coincidence. We have not nurtured the context. But can we begin to see these young people as scooter-riding, identity-seeking kids with skill sets and interests of which we can be more aware?

Friends. . .I have seen many of us (and me) get super-excited when we meet authors. Or when we discover the new book is coming soon. We wear the costume of the reader. We will wait in line. We will want to get something signed. We will want our picture to be taken.

We are all Squish.

In any given moment of reading excitement, we are all seven-years-old.