The fabulous Weaver boys
The fabulous Weaver boys
When I first arrived in Grant County, three years ago Nov. 1, I didn't know anybody.
Today, of course, I can't wear embarrassingly grungy clothing out in public without running into at least one person who knows who I am and expects better, but at the time I was awash in a sea full of strangers.
Which is why it was so surprising to be introduced my first day of work to our production manager, Curt Weaver.
To date and to the best of my knowledge, there is no genuine familial connection between us, although if you trace our respective family histories all the way back to that first ancient caveman clan of Weavers (headed up by Ug Weaver, alias "Really Handsome Guy," a trait that's been passed down to all Weaver lads and ladies) or Adam and Eve, then yes, we are probably related.
But that hasn't stopped us from becoming honorary relatives. It wasn't too long before I was taking all my work-related technical woes to "Uncle" Curt — the ultimate place such woes wind up. It's become so ingrained in me, I think I am no longer physically able to refer to him as just Curt. Not even when he's curt.
I've eaten at Uncle Curt's place, I've met the "cousins" I never knew I had and we've gone out to lunch a time or two, although I think we're due for another.
His was a particularly friendly face as I got adjusted to my new surroundings. No matter what chaos might have laid in wait for me throughout the work day (like many in my branch of the family, Weavers are prone to groundless worry), I knew there was at least one Weaver who had my back on site, in addition to the three Weavers back at home in Spokane who'd make the trip in a heartbeat, and have.
He's even influenced my style of dress, as we make the most out of casual Fridays with our respective Hawaiian shirts, particularly his Santa Claus one.
Thanks to Uncle Curt's presence in the office, I have further evidence to point to when making such hilarious and true claims as "Weavers are like roses," "Weavers are known to be devastatingly attractive," and "Oh, what a wise and witty lot those Weavers are."
We have similar senses of humor, which is fortunate for me and occasionally unfortunate for the workers around us. Which is probably why we both found it amusing when one woman approached Uncle Curt at church relatively soon after I started work, and told him she thought it was nice the paper had hired his son.
With Uncle Curt on the scene, we are both Weavers who aren't flying solo.
Matthew Weaver is the business and agriculture reporter for the Columbia Basin Herald. In the vein of his nicknaming Uncle Curt, his coworkers have bestowed the pseudonyms of Dumpling and Little Ray of Sunshine upon Mr. Weaver.
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