How does one measure a high five? Is it measured by the size of the hand? Is it measured by how hard their hand slapped yours? Is it measured by how well they can perform the maneuver or how direct the slap is? Is it measured by how good you feel after the high five? to be quite honest, I really don't know how the pros measure their high-fives. My tireless efforts at researching have not identified any known rules for this unique piece of our pop-culture. I did uncover some history of the "high five phenomenon" on the source of all truth -- Wikipedia. (Insert here a passionate plea for everyone reading this blog please click the appropriate donation to Wikipedia in the plate as he goes around the room.)
It seems that the history of the high five has very deep cultural roots. In the beginning, when football was played without helmets, pads, unsportsmanlike conduct, offense, or defense, when someone was holding the pink skin ( sometimes substituted with real pigs when no one could come up with a pigskin) crossed the line of the end zone ( sometimes known as the "slaughter zone") and they were still alive, they would reach out to their teammates and say, "give me five" which was actually a sincere plea for five dollars to put towards medical costs incurred during the game.
All of that changed with the introduction of helmets and the migration of slaughter zones from football fields to hockey. Postgame medical cost fell dramatically and salaries for players skyrocketed. When salaries were first instituted, players were paid for their performance rather than their choices of agents. Players went directly to the owners for their pay after each touchdown ( which were known previously as smackdowns for obvious reasons). The players would run to the sideline, find the owner, face him square on, turn around in place and scream, "give me five, please!" Upon which, the owner would tuck five dollars in the players back pocket and then slap him on the back pocket to let him know that he had been paid. This proved to be a bit problematic though when the owners started making uniforms without back pockets and just going through the motions with the players. Still, this early form of the high five made its way into the pop culture, mostly as a way to make fun of dumb football players who thought the owners were still paying them. The slap on someone's back pocket caught on as a way to show that you thought they did a great job or performed something very well. It spread like wildfire. Other sports loved the motion. Baseball players, golfers, bass fisherman, ballet dancers and lawyers. It was the lawyers who finally killed it off. History is a bit unclear here, the documents are classified, but it seems that a certain lawyer named Clarence Thomas was submitted to become a Supreme Court justice and his nomination gotten muddied by some claims that maybe his efforts at freely expressing the motion had gone "a little too far".
Next came football agents and several more lawsuits giving rise to the high five motion as we know it today. The football agents, many who were attorneys also, devised a system whereby one person would raise their hand high and another person, in the case of football this would be the owner, would raise their hand and slap five dollars into the hand of the player. This was an intensely ingenious move by the football agents because the "high five" was done in the open, for everyone to see, including the players and agents. Lawsuits, triggered by "excessive motion" in prior days, were now reduced to virtually nothing. ( yes, Clarence Thomas did become a Supreme Court justice and wrote the majority decision in the case of Thomas V. Jane Doe which struck down all prior cases of "extreme and excessive use of the motion") As four of the expression of a high five in pop-culture, there was no exchange of money ( note exception drug culture) and anyone engaged in the activity as an expression of congratulations or "job well done". There are numerous variations of the high five that spring up from time to time. Most of them are introduced into culture by sports team owners and basically boiled down to "congratulations, job well done, but I ain't giving you a dime" ( most popular examples are the closed hand fist to fist and two or more people jumping out the into each other with their arms down at their sides).
This brings me to the topic of this post: my best high-five ever. ( history is very important so that we don't repeat our mistakes, but sometimes it can be quite long -- like 789 words long) As I mentioned above, there are no rules in "grading" a high-five, but, I will tell you how I did it. In my current crippled state, I cannot physically give a high-five. I can't raise either of my hands above my head and my palms are permanently turned in instead of out. So when I say go for a high-five, people get all creeped out and they think I'm making fun of crippled people who can't high-five. So I don't ever signal for high-fives anymore. So put your thinking hats on and get ready for a metaphoric ride.
Five years ago, on October 29, 2006, I fell out of a tree and the world for myself, my wife, my children and many others changed. ( I would say changed forever, but I know it's not going to be forever, just long enough for me to learn what I need.) that was five years ago when I fell from a high tree. (that sentence was strategically placed for the metaphorically challenged) I had an initial purpose that I had supposed was what I needed to do and why I remained alive. But, the time and activity of that initial purpose has passed and I live on. I have looked up and asked the question of why I remain living countless times and I know that others have as well. I started this blog because I wanted to cry the whole my life as a grandfather so that I could pass that along to future generations. Being a grandfather is a joy that it's difficult to express in words to anyone who is not. Being a grandfather that is confined to a wheelchair and had always trained of how I would run and play with my grandchildren has been a source of many sleepless nights for me. How can I be a grandfather like all of the others?
About 18 months ago, our third granddaughter Maxine was born to our son Seth and his incredible wife and mother Jackie. At the time, they lived in our house in the basement area. Under the best of conditions, it's not easy for a new young family to live in the home of their parents. We have had to constrain our grandparenting wants as we strive to let them make their own family decisions and have their own family time. Soon after Maxine was born Jackie would bring her up the stairs every morning to say good morning to her Mimi and Gimpa. At the earliest of age, she has seen me laying in my hospital bed and sitting in my wheelchair. It seemed to me that from the moment that she could focus on objects further away, when she would come to see me, her eyes would lock themselves into a stare. Or at least I thought it was a stare. Then I noticed that she wasn't staring, but that she was studying intently the object which she held in her focus. I used to joke that she could be the next National Baby Staring Champion. In all seriousness, it is one of the most intense and sweet gazing that I have ever seen. Sometimes our eyes would lock and she would give me an intent gaze of the kind that I could only hope that I might receive one day from the Savior. I am convinced that she knows me as I am and doesn't expect anything different. She doesn't expect me to give her food or drinks. She doesn't grab my hand to take me somewhere and show me something. She doesn't crawl up on my lap or reach out for me to hold her. She doesn't play ball with me, nor does she throw or roll the ball in my way. She has discovered that I can fake dance with my upper body ( which is actually better than my previous real dancing) so she will get out a toy that plays a musical tune and without waiting, she will make it play the tune and look at me to see if I'm dancing. She knows how to use baby sign language and she knows that I know it, but, she will never give me a sign that I can't do. We came face to face to say good morning, eat lunch together, and goodnight most of the days while her parents lived with us.
On Saturday was my anniversary. I am thankful that I can still breathe every day when I wake up. I know that I am a burden to some and they cost to others. Most of my days are filled with intense pain that I can only partially block out. Sometimes I think that there is not much here for me to do. But, amazingly I fill my days and many times it is just being with the grandchildren.
On Sunday, Maxine was being a bit rambunctious and whining during sacrament meeting. Usually, her parents said much more towards the front so they can hear and see better, but our family sits more towards the back so they can take out the folding chairs and cut out a place for me. Jackie got up to walk around a bit with Maxine and then decided to sit down next to us. Well, of course, Maxine wanted to explore her new environment, but we could tell that she was also tired. She sat with Saren for a while and then wanted to her Mimi. She put her head on Mimi's shoulder while Mimi patted her back. Then she looked over at me. It looked as if she was questioning whether or not she could come to my lap. She was close and there was nothing keeping her from sitting on my lap, only herself. I nodded my head and gave her a look with my eyes to come over to my lap. I wasn't really expecting it to come over, but I think she got a little bit of encouragement from Mimi and she stepped over to my lap. Sue sat down with her legs straddling my left leg and laid her head down on my shoulder. I tried to curl my left arm around her to help her to feel safe, but I suspect it was the padding by her Mimi on her back that helped her feel secure. She laid her head there for probably 30 min. I kept looking down because I thought maybe she had gone to sleep, but she didn't love even for a minute. Her eyes looked very heavy, but she kept them open. Many times she looked up at me to see if I looked at her. Once she caught my eyes, she would smile and lower her head to seem as if she was resting. When I sang one of the hymns, she seemed to hum along with me or maybe even tried to sing. I guess after a while she felt that she had rested enough and given me a wonderful feeling as a grandfather. In fact, she had. She had given me the best high-five I ever got!
As a follow-up to the above story, I wanted to mention that while she hasn't laid her head on my shoulders, like she did that time, she did sit on my lap for a while during opening exercises of priesthood. Of course, I was sitting right next to the Wurlitzer Play and Fun home sized organ. It's a good thing that it wasn't on because she tried to play it with her fingers and when that didn't work she tried to play it with her toes! But the really great thing for me was that while she was sitting on my lap, I snuggled close to her and gave her a kiss on the side of her head. The smell was so unbelievable. It was the smell of a young child's head. And the hair felt so thin on my face. And brought me back many memories of sitting with each of my girls when they were young. Kissing their heads, one of those sweet joys of a father, turns out also to be one of those sweet joys of a Gimpa!
