June 8, 2007

• Beautiful Boy

  He emerged from the womb a red, howling ball of fury. His head was egg shaped and I’d wanted a sister anyhow. Mom brought him home and I got a good look at him and loved him simply, instinctually, right away. He’d do.

  He came to my girl scout meeting once, dressed in a furry, leopard printed winter-time baby outfit with footies. I told everyone he was half-cat. I was almost seven. My nose had green snail-ers.

  When he got older we mashed our faces against his playpen. His hair was blonde and curly and his skin was warm but stank like baby. When you changed him you had to try not to dry heave ‘cuz you might then accidentally stick him with the pin. The Dydee Diaper man came to our house weekly to collect bags of his used-up nappies.

  I got a game for Christmas one year: a soft helmet with Velcro stitched on and felt balls that you’d throw at your opponents head. The winner had the least amount of balls on their heads at game’s end. We played that in the living room, laughing and drooling and galloping on the carpet.

  He baked bread once, on his own with a kids cooking video that he liked playing in the kitchen. He took apart a bike and put it back together. He changed the oil in the car. When his friends would come over to spend the night, he’d cook them pancakes for breakfast. He knew how things worked, how to do things. He always knew.

  “Funk-ay the monk-ay oolay oolay oolay.” That’s what he would sing with our youngest brother. Together, they were known as The Boys.

  The Boys made tapes with our massive 1980’s home video camera. They ate apples on screen and discussed the curse of ‘apple gasses.’ They put mom’s nylons on their faces and arms and squirmed around as Nylon Man, giddy. They stuffed their clothes full of pillows and blankets and rolled down the stairs bellowing, “Fat Boys!” My friend and I were going to use the camera one weekend, and we found these on a tape we were going to use. We couldn’t stop laughing. We played it over and over and over. They were funny. They were perfect. We loved them.

  When I left home at 18, the oldest of the boys was 11. When I think of him, he is still a little boy with a smooth face and a devilish grin and grass stained knees. But he looks like this now.

  

  My brother Anthony graduated high school last week. His graduation party was a celebration and a half. It was a struggle for him to stay in school and once he made the decision to do it, it was a struggle to graduate. Like many super smart people, especially those with an inclination towards hands-on activities, high school was not a particularly productive place for my brother. He thrived in non-traditional learning environments. He built a house this year. From scratch. He is amazing.

  Currently, my brother is in Florida for a month, attending a certification course in audio sound systems. I can see him with his own custom shop one day, pimping cars. His design-sense is as razor sharp as his engineering and technical abilities. He is reliable and has made a name for himself on local construction crew and in his courses as one of the hardest workers that anyone has ever met. He is in love with a girl I can’t wait to get to know better. Like I said, I always wanted a sister.
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  Did one of your loved ones graduate this spring?

  • 7:02 am
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