Howdy, my loves! And I DO love YOU!
Whew, I really had to take a break from fine-tuning that damn MANUSCRIPT. All work and no play, la-dee-daah and all like THAT. I suppose it’s made all the more grueling when some of these chapters reflect some less-than-lovely aspects of my youth. Little hard to take at times.
But nobody wants to read a honey-coated memoir, least of all me. The resulting past couple weeks have been a continuous opening of veins (maybe even an artery here and there...) Hey, I got feelings, man! I love the writing thing, but it DOES get me a little ferklempt occasionally.
At any rate, I woke up with an old song in my head today so it’s time for a little fun. (For me, anyhow.)
* * * * * *
The Great Powers That Be have blessed me with two brothers this time around. One is a year and half older than me and one is nearly four years younger, so for most of my life I have been neatly sandwiched between these guys within the familial realm. They’re nice enough fellas. They do their brotherly bit pretty well.
Tomorrow is my older brother’s birthday and so this BLOG is dedicated to him!
As kiddies, me and Bro # 1 were like Irish Twins, Frick N’ Frack, Beanie and Cecil, whatever the hell.
He was a real devil. I’d really try to stay under the radar because sometimes my mom would be losing it with him. I was too young to remember this, but it’s an old family story that when he was a toddler, he locked himself in the kitchen at the little apartment we lived in as kids. My mom was frantically trying to open the door and she could see thru the key-hole that he was charging around in there brandishing a meat cleaver or some shit. She could also make out thru her limited scope of vision what looked like BLOOD all over the kitchen floor. (But it was actually a big tin of Paprika that he’d spilt all over the place.) And all the while, he’s screaming bloody murder.
My mom ended up getting a neighbor to break the door down or something. I think they had to break a few doors down over the years for Bro #1. Anyway, everything ended up okay.
I idolized him with all my heart - just thought he was the bee’s knees. He knew it, too and he took full advantage by getting me into all kinds of crazy hi-jinx. I was such a sucker.
There use to be these ugly little rubbery HUMPTY-DUMPTY figurines that came out of an old gum-ball machine on Myrtle Avenue and 80th Street, right in front of what used to be SEAWALD’S GROCERY. They were a quarter a piece. These wiggly things were so stupid and pointless and grotesque, and EXPENSIVE – shit! When I was 5, maybe 6 years old? A quarter was like – MAN!
Anyhow, Bro # 1 convinces me that these things are the best thing we will ever have, EVER, and that we MUST collect as many of them as possible in record time. How? How can we hope to accomplish such a feat? I wonder.
He reminds me of our big, plastic Mickey Mouse banks that Mom keeps waaaaaaay up on top of the refrigerator. Our Grampa has been giving us each a quarter all of our lives, every time we see him, which is like 2 or 3 times a week sometimes. Mom has emptied them a couple of times already and still those banks are heavy.
I don’t know where the hell Mom could be when Bro # 1 commences to breaking into those banks. I mean, there was precarious climbing involved, as well as some clanking of coins. I’m guessing she was in the bathroom or hanging laundry. Whatever. It amazes me to this day that we pulled that off. THE GREAT MICKEY MOUSE BANK ROBBERY.
And now, for the next part of the plan: We are to walk up to Myrtle Avenue and GET THE GOODS.
I am scared. No, terrified. I know that we are NOT ALLOWED OFF THE BLOCK. Mom has been drilling this into my little head like the Our Father.
Bro # 1 convinces me that it’s really only like going off ONE block, when you consider that - technically - we’d only have to cross one street to get to Myrtle. The rest of the blocks connect and it’ll only be like going around the corner and crossing one street! Easy as pie and we’ll be back in no time and nobody will be the wiser.
Aahhh….But when we return! Yes, when we return, we will have riches beyond our wildest dreams. Yes, we will be the proud owners of A MILLION OF THOSE HUMPTY DUMPTY THINGS.
SOLD! Heart hammering, I gear up for the voyage.
As we leave to “GO OUT AND PLAY”, Mom buttons my blue, nubby sweater and tells me brightly to: “Stay close and don’t go near the street!” I feel queasy with guilt, but determined. Me and Bro #1 walk together up to Myrtle, me lagging a little behind – my heart tugging me backward to Mom. Knowing that somehow, now that I was betraying her, I could never really go back. Not really.
The stupid HUMPTY DUMPTY machine kept getting stuck. Some of the fucking things had no arms and legs, musta been a bad batch at the rubber factory. As we stuffed out pockets, I felt the eyes of passing neighborhood adults on us: “What the hell are THESE two up to?”
Me: “I wanna go home. I don’t wanna spend any more of my quarters.”
Bro #1: “It’s too late, we already spent all of yours.”
Mom found out, of course. She probably needed a tip for the milkman or something and came up empty at the Mickey Banks. She quickly puts 2 and 2 together when she starts spotting all of those useless, grotesque Dumpties laying around, getting caught in the vacuum cleaner and shit. And man, she is pissed when she realizes we have LEFT THE BLOCK.
The rest is a blur, but this adventure really ended lousy.
* * * * * *
Most of you know I’m a singer/songwriter. But what many people don’t know is that both of my brothers have very lovely singing voices of their own!
I gotta say, Bro #1 was positively OFF THE HOOK with his ‘in-the-shower’ renditions of many radio hits back in the day. What he lacked in technique, he made up for with dramatic flair and sheer stamina.
Now, I’ve always been in love with words and thus, lyrics. Many people will listen to a song and concentrate on the melody line or the music-end of it. And believe me, good music absolutely kills me. But almost equally, I positively lust language and I worship words.
And you know how sometimes people THINK they know the lyrics of a song but it’s not even close? Sure ya do. Well, I gotta say that my dear Bro # 1 is probably THE most creative in this department that I have ever heard in my life.
So herewith I bring you, in honor of his birthday, my Bro # 1’s top 3 HITS IN THE SHOWER
(* circa early-70’s):
Instant Karma – © John Lennon (1970)
Real lyric: Instant Karma’s gonna get you!
Bro’s lyric: It’s The Cops, They’re Gonna Get You!
The Night CHICAGO Died – © Paper Lace (1974)
Real lyric: The Night Chicago Died!
Bro’s lyric: The Night She Come…Or Die!
(And my personal, all-time FAVORITE):
Angie – © The Rolling Stones (1972)
Real Lyric: Angie! Angie!
Bro’s Lyric: I Am Jay! I Ammmm... JAY!
* * * * * *
So, BIG BROTHER … if you’re watching… Thanks for the memories. And the melodies. And if not those, at least...those incredible lyrics!
Your Little Sister is wishing you a HAPPY BIRTHDAY AND MANY MORE!
Lotsa Love~! J ~ *
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