Pulling a Sherwood

My friend tells me

"I hate wind"
"all kinds"

I think that's a bold statement

Does he really?

Or is he Pulling a Sherwood?

If I asked him to clarify, would he brush me off and transcend all logic to save his mind from ruin?

He's young but:

There's some truth to it, sure. Sher. Look. You have to understand

My father's middle name is Sherwood. That's a key thing to understand.

My father's name is Sherwood and
grandma's too-long life has broken her brain.
And Grandma was "Pulling a Sherwood" again.

"How did this name come to peek 'twixt first and last,
dear old withering mother, dear?"

"why son, my darling son"
(In my absence, there can only be dramatic re-enactments)
"dear sweet son of mine, 'twas Sherwood was thy dear old father's
sweetest
loveliest
rosy-cheekiest
childhood friend:

twas many a golden eve
they swung above the stream
attempting to believe
their doomed and boyish dreams"

(really, this is the secret cadence of grandma/everyone, I know what you guys are like when I'm not around, you can't hide, you can't pretend!!)

and father, eyes shining:

"But mother dear, if memory serves me, 'twas the name of Sherwood in old father's own, God rest his soul.
Was it he
who named
his own
sad self
to echo darling Sher,
sweet childhood's light, as well as me?"

"How can that be?"

"Oh well Marty" Grandma's tough, you know, worked all her life, welded in the war, raised deep in the snow during the Depression, history buff with an eighth grade education, drove cross country twice with two small boys hot on the heels of the no-good man she loved, though she'd never admit it, married him twice, he who later retreated to a desert trailer, sober, to make turquoise jewelry and pick sage, once even with me, ending with a shot to the head in the flatbed of a truck, hidden to spare the grandkids the horror, respectably, reasonably, and finally misremembered as a sweet and responsible husband, though whatever happened to the old fool, I mean "who really knows" and what was I saying, oh: "I don't remember, your father named you, I wasn't really involved"

Oh hell long-life dear broken-brain
my grandmother's Pulling a Sherwood again.