Louis
This morning I had breakfast with Louis.
I’ve known Louis for a few years and we have a secret handshake. I would tell you about it, but then it wouldn’t be a secret.
Louis is 12-years-old and reminds me of myself when I was his age. He is charismatic and creative and is kept busy with the big dreams that swirl around his head. He is wild and free and on top of that, he’s got a personality that reminds you to not take yourself so seriously.
We went to a breakfast cafe next to a lake a few miles east of Lake Michigan.
Louis had orange juice.
I had coffee.
We glanced over the menu and Louis’ eyes grew big.
“Do you see what they have?!” he said, trying not to raise his voice.
I looked down at the menu.
“FUNNEL CAKE FRIES!” he exclaimed before I could find it.
All I could think was how much my 33-year-old body was going to hate me for eating them.
“Can we get them?” he asked.
“We have no choice. We have to. We have to.”
I said it twice for dramatic effect.
If the menu has Funnel Cake Fries you have to order them.
This is a rule that Louis and I made up and you’ll thank us for it later.
I asked Louis question after question. We talked about life and God and food and video games and school. He likes math and Zelda and does not particularly care for orange juice without pulp. I agreed. Orange juice without pulp is a complete rip off. Just as we were about to discuss how we like our bacon cooked, our waitress brought us a basket of funnel cake fries. They were warm and covered in powdered sugar.
Louis only needed to take one bite before declaring this was the best food ever invented.
He was not wrong.
Fried dough is proof there is still good in the world.
When you ask Louis what he wants to be when he grows up he will tell you that he will be a major league baseball player. I believe him. I have no reason not to believe him. If he believes in a dream, well, I’ll close my eyes and believe it with him. Baseball is his life. The Detroit Tigers are his team. He is determined and I’ll be cheering him on.
“What do you love about baseball, Louis?” I asked as I shoved another funnel cake fry into my mouth.
He shrugged his shoulders and thought for a second.
“Well, I guess it’s because anyone can play. You don’t have to be tall or fast or strong. It’s not like the NBA or NFL. There is a room for everyone. I don’t know. I guess I just love everything about it.”
“That reminds me of church. There is room for everyone.”
“Yeah. That’s true,” Louis said as he nodded his head.
We both shoved another funnel cake fry into our mouths.
“Louis, ask me a question,” I suggested.
“Alright. Hmm. How about … if you could hangout with anyone, who would it be?”
“Anyone?”
“Anyone! Dead or alive.”
“Well, I would have said you, but here we are. How about Jesus?”
“That’s obvious. Of course. Someone else!”
“Hmm. Okay. I think I’ll go with … Dolly Parton.”
“Who?”
“Dolly Parton. She is a musician and owns a theme park and well, Dolly is a saint.”
“Oh wow. Her own theme park?”
“Yup!”
We both shoved another Funnel Cake Fry into our mouths.
“Louis, when you finish your baseball career, what do you want to do?”
“Oh that’s a good one. Okay, I think I’ll either be a bartender or a demolitionist or maybe a pastor.”
“Oh, I think you’d be a great pastor. Just like your dad.”
“Yeah, maybe. But I think it would be fun to break stuff with a wrecking ball, too.”
Speaking of breaking stuff, we both shoved another funnel cake fry into our mouths.
I don’t know what Louis is going to do with his life, but I do know this: He is going to make the world a better place.
How do I know?
Well, two reasons:
He has good taste in breakfast food and knows that there is room for everyone.
Just like on the baseball field.
