Note: For my 40th
birthday, my wife solicited wishes from friends and family. I received so many wonderful memories and
thanked everyone. This one just came
through from my sister, Kaleen, and I thought it was worth sharing.
Rush Hour in Battle Mountain, NV. |
My
brother Rob is the oldest, and therefore made all the fun mistakes that Jamie
and I never got to make. He paved a way for us, then put up cement blockades on
that newly paved path so we couldn’t follow. So, yes, if you want some smart
and savvy stories about Rob, stories that make him look young and foolish,
spunky but stupid, then, yes, I’ve got those. The only problem is that Rob has
probably already told all those stories. Again, pulling the ladder up behind
him, so he gets there first, with the best toys, to raise the highest flag.
So,
yes I could tell you about the time that we were living in Battle Mountain (and
you know it’s gonna be a good story when it starts out with Battle Mountain . .
.) and our parents were out. Rob’s friends call him up and say something shady
like, “Your parents are gone! Sweet, let’s rob a bank!” or whatever teenage
boys say to each other on the phone. Rob
agrees to the shady activity, but
needs to get into town about 7 miles away. He makes the only reasonable choice
of reasonable criminals. He borrows our parents’ Lincoln Town Car. But he can’t
leave Jamie and I home alone. Or, what is probably more to the point, he
refused to relinquish the parental-granted authority of Being In Charge. So he
makes us go with him. We don’t want to. Jamie and I have been told horror
stories (by Rob) about children, cars, police officers, criminals, jail, and
worst of all, having to confess to our parents. But Rob is in charge, and has
always been persuasive. So we all pile in the Lincoln. I should tell you that
Rob was at most 14 years old. So, there we are, Rob in the front, Jamie and I
squished into scared little sibling globs on the floor of the back seat so no
one sees us. Well, correction, so that Rob’s friends don’t realize that he’s
being responsible while he’s being a criminal. Oh I could go on to tell you
that he then has to fess up that Jamie and I are in the backseat because his
friends want to hop in and go for a ride, too, and we did.
The Lincoln Town Car is so large it affects gravity. |
Note: I have no memory of these events, nor would I be disposed to discuss such events if they had actually occurred.
But
I won’t tell you that story, mostly because it highlights the fact that Rob had
a mullet when we lived in Battle Mountain.
The most dangerous creature known to 3 year-olds. |
Instead
I will tell you the story of how Rob used to dominate my son Alex at Pokémon by
using Charizard. My son was 3, a young, impressionable, adorable 3 year old
with one love. One goal in his life. He wanted to be a Pokémon Master. Because
of his love of Pokémon battles he wanted to beat the best—enter Rob. Think of
Rob in leather pants, an evil mullet, driving up in his stolen Lincoln and
laughing a mighty guffaw. Or, your other option is to picture Rob in jeans and
a t-shirt playing, with kind eyes and an eagerness to spend time with his
nephew. But, if you choose Option 2, you won’t really appreciate the end of
this story.
So . . . Rob
enters the room, swaggering and says to the sweetest-little boy in the world,
“Fire up your Nintendo 64! We’ve got some dueling to do!” Then Rob did the
worst thing of all—he picked Charizard to be his starting Pokémon. This evolved
form of Charmander has a devilish ability to fly up high and then swoop down
and pounce on his victims, pummeling them into the ground. A knock-out move
every time.
I said, it hurts my feelings when you use Charizard! |
How
could Alex compete with such a move? How could he defeat a Flying-Fire-Ground
attack.
Well
he couldn’t.
Rob,
mullet waving in the air, just laughed as Alex was defeated. And Alex, true,
brave, kind child did the only thing he could. He used his Feeling Words. He
said, “It hurts my feelings when you use Charizard.” Pow! A knock-out to Rob. A
real-life David and Goliath moment. Rob was down for the count. And from that
battle on, Rob has never used Charizard again. Well, maybe once, but that’s
another story.
Note: I'm 99.44% certain this was actually addressed to my brother, Jamie, who also had a mullet.
Rob
redeemed himself by later teaching my son how to wave a sword and sing “Be a
Man.” Going on to chant call-and-response choruses of:
I got my ass kicked a lot, but I was well choreographed. |
“What
do we want?”
“PAIN!”
“When
do we want it?”
“NOW!”
How
he invented the all-time favorite game of “Squish the Nephew” with both my sons
and how the giggling lasted well into the night. Yes, Rob started out being a
rough rogue with a mullet and a pension for danger. But, in the end, his deep
love for family and musicals has always managed to surface above his criminal
car and Pokémon activity. Don’t let his tough exterior fool you, he loves like
he laughs—heartily.
And
he does a mean rendition of the Sharks and Jets.
Okay, now I want to see Rob in a mullet and leather pants! ROFL
ReplyDeleteI have never now, nor in the past, owned a pair of leather pants.
Delete