Monday, January 24, 2005

My Brother, the Toy

Growing up, my brother was my favorite toy. Nearly 4 years older then me, he could do all the things I wanted to do, but was to young. Unless of course, I went with him.

As our Mother had a career once we were in school, my brother was taken to the task of watching me once he was old enough. Technically my sister, who is 8 years older, had that task, but she was usually to busy with her own deal to worry about me, so she let me do whatever I wanted. This left big brother in charge.

I grew up in a neighborhood where most of the kids were my brother's age and were boys. I came in handy when they needed just one more to make two football teams (I learned how to run real fucking fast) or someone small.

As a kid, wintertime was probably my favorite season. My Dad, who grew up in poverty, liked to have all the toys he never had as a child, which meant we had all the toys he never had as a child.

Snow Mobiles, three-wheelers-if it had a motor, we had it. The one problem was we were not allowed to touch these things unless my Dad was present. It was that, or we could buy our own.

My parents were real big on that whole 'you will learn to work for the things you want' dealio. Winter in Chicago was a Capitalist Kid's dream. From snow shoveling to my greatest idea, personalized homemade snow sculptures (who could turn down a 7 year old offering to build a unique snow sculpture in their yard for a few bucks?), we made money hand over fist with one goal: To buy our own snowmobiles.

My Dad had made the generous offer to pay half of it if we could earn half. This was usually the deal if we wanted something big, and they probably thought we wouldn't have the attention span to earn that kind of money.

They so should have known better...We did come up with half the money in a year, and we did buy ourselves our very own snowmobiles.

As I've gotten older, I have outgrown the whole toy phase. I've been able to do this because my brother hasn't, so I can just go play with his

That horrid, crappy snow storm we got this weekend wouldn't have had any redeeming qualities if it weren't for my brother, who still has all the snowmobiles and four wheelers and fun stuff.

Once I got my bearings from the drive home from hell, I was so ready to try his new snowmobiles. He bought two, so that his wife and kids could go along with him, but they are wussies with a capital "W".

I had my 12 year old niece on the back of one of them, and as I reached 10 MPH she started crying hysterically, saying I was going to fast. My sis-in-law likes to take one of them out, but she thinks 10 MPH is a bit fast too.

Shiiiiaat. How did these people get in our family? Too fast is, ummm, 80 maybe?

So we dumped their asses off at home and took off. Thankfully my brother lives in a more rural area then I do, and he has trails and fields behind his house. We spent the next four hours having the time of our lives.

As we pulled into his house around 5 in the morning, some of his neighbors were already out shoveling snow. WTF? Anyway, my brother "white washed" me, and I proceeded to nail him right in the face with the most awesome snowball ever, the one that I had made before we left so that it would be real nice and hard.

We plumeled (how the fuck do you spell plumeled?) each other while his neighbors just kind of watched, probably wondering why a 38 year old man and a 34 year old woman were acting like 10 year olds in the front yard.

Acting like a 10 year old is totally where it's at, dude. I hope I never grow up, and I really hope my brother never grows up...

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