Kid # 1

I’ve been trying to write for several days now and I just couldn’t. This is probably the most painful thing I’ve written about so I’m going to treat it like a band-aid and just rip it off.

I’m the baby of the family or kid # 6. My parents numbered us for fun and it kind of stuck.There’s Janel and Gwen, kids #5 and #4. Greg and Gary kids #3 and #2 and Roger kid #1. Roger passed away last week.

When we were living in Italy Roger and I were roommates. He was in highschool I was in kindergarten. Quite an age gap. I would have to go to bed before him so I would fill his bed whatever toys I had handy. He would come in every night, pull down his covers and clear off his bed before going to sleep. He tolerated an obnoxious 5 year old.

All that time together we bonded,  a bond that seemed closer to him than with my other siblings. Don’t get me wrong, I love all of them with all my heart but Rog and I just fit together. I’ve always looked up to my older brothers. I can remember when I was in fifth grade Gary was a machinist , I thought that was cool so when the class started learning how to do taxes The profession I chose to list was a machinist. When I got into highschool Greg was an electronics technician, I thought that was cool so I took electronics. When I was fifteen one summer I worked for Rog. He was a car painter. I found out that I really liked working with my hands . I also found out that Roger was really an automotive artist. I could sit and watch him pinstripe a car for hours. He ignited a love of old cars that I still have today.

That’s my Uncle’s PT Cruiser that he painted for him. There are many, many modifications on it. Roger did most of them. The car was published in a magazine. I learned from Rog that I could handle tools and make stuff that I could be proud of. I pretty much bombed out of Junior High shop class. But he was patient with me and I learned. If I had chosen a different path in life I would probably have ended up a body man also. I love doing the work, I find it fun. I used to go to his shops all the time to try to do what really turned out to be a hobby for me. Probably too much time.

Over the years I always wanted one of his custom cars but it just never really worked out. He was always trying to teach me and there was just not enough time in my schedule. I can do some of the work, but  I wasn’t able to emulate all of his abilities. I’m just not as talented at it as he was.

Roger was also a very talented artist. The car is the car he was working on at the time of his death. It’s not how the customer wanted it, it’s just what he would have liked to do with it. That’s a scan of a photocopy so there is a lot of detail that was lost in the process. I’m going to borrow some of his other art and scan the originals, I’ll post them later. They are simply amazing.

Well, that was the easy part where I talked about his talents. Now I have to talk about his death. That day I got a call from Gwen telling me he was in intensive care. I knew he had an infection that he wasn’t taking care so I’ve kind of been expecting that. I get to the hospital and and find Rog. I walked in and he thanked me for coming and asked me if I had done anything to my truck. We chatted along those lines for a few minutes and I could see he was tired so I told him to get some rest and I would talk to him in a little while. I found my parents and proceeded to get the real story about his health. From the stuff they were telling me I knew that the outcome was at best going to be maybe an amputation and maybe dialysis. I waited for another chance to go back in to talk to him but he had to go down for an MRI. While he was down there we heard it “CODE BLUE TO MRI”. I knew it was him. The social workers began to show up and they walked my parents, sisters and I down to where they were working on him. I could hear them working , sounds which I never want to hear again. The Doctor came out and calmly told us that he was gone. Just like that, he was gone. Next thing I knew I was standing over his body watching my shell shocked parents try to digest what just happened. I never got to talk to him again. I should have told him I loved him. I tried to be strong for my parents, trying to comfort them. I eventually left the hospital and   I managed to keep it together until I got home . I crumbled in my wife’s arms. The first time she had seen me cry. Through all this she has been my steadying force. I thank God he put her in my life. I needed her.

Roger was kind and generous and almost everyone he met liked him. I miss him and will continue to use the talents he taught me.

La Mosca Del Diablo

Prologue :

This incident happened about ten years ago. In an attempt to overcome my Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, I’m going to try to put my horror into words.

It all began on a quiet summer afternoon. The kind when all you want to do is sit back and relax with a cool drink that has condensation rolling down the glass. But this was not to be. This was the day that he got in. I don’t know how … but HE got in.

La Mosca Del Diablo!!!

Or The Devil’s House fly. He came into my house and began wreaking havoc almost immediately. Flying around landing on stuff, knocking stuff over and bouncing off the window and my bald head. All the time making that incessant BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!!  He was larger than the normal fly and had with  lot more attitude.He was almost daring me to get a rolled up paper. Which I did.

I stood up with my weapon and began to chase him around the house. Which is exactly what he wanted . I swear I heard him giggle. I would get close to him and swing with all my might only to miss and hit a fragile object, shattering it. this continued for a while and he began to get braver. He was coming closer and closer. That’s all I needed. I was always a good hitter in baseball and he was like swinging at a hanging curveball. I swing with all my might and connect. WHACK! He sails across the room and hits a wall. It’s over . Peace has been restored.

I walked over to pick up the splattered remnants of the fly but I can’t find him. He is gone! I know I killed him, but he is gone!  I look behind the couch and while I’m looking I hear it… BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ! He is still alive. I quickly spin around to find him and he bounces off my head again. Just to taunt me. I swing again and once again I connect. he sails across the room again and hits the floor. But he’s STILL alive. I ran across the room hoping to catch him while he’s dazed, but he recovers before I can get there . He quickly flies down the hallway and into the bathroom. I give chase. I caught up to him in the bathroom and shut the door behind me.

It is now the Thunderdome. “Two men enter, One man leaves”. I still have the rolled up paper in my hand and now begin flailing it around in an attempt to get lucky and hit him. But all I do is manage to cool him down with a nice breeze. He giggles once again and flies into my ear. He begins buzzing as loud as possible as if to say ” I dare you to swing now!!!” So I did! I connect… with my ear. He gets away, but my ear is ringing and I am dazed. While I was disoriented I dropped my paper and now I am completely unarmed. I’m just where he wants me, vulnerable. The fly lands on the handle of the plunger and much to my surprise he picks it up!! Not only did he pick it up, he hits me with it. I fell to the floor. While I’m down there being bludgeoned I noticed the toilet brush. I reach for it out of desperation.  I just barely can get it and turn around in time to block one of his many powerful blows. This gives me time to regain my footing and begins a duel that can only be rivaled by Obi-Wan and Anakin.

The only difference is that we are fighting with a plunger and a toilet brush. Just when I think I’ve got him cornered, out of desperation he throws his plunger at me. It stuck to my forehead like a giant suction cup dart. I’ve dropped my weapon again and I am staggering around trying to get the plunger off my head. It came off with a loud POP! Leaving behind a large hickey on my forehead. He quickly flies into my chest knocking me backwards and into the switch for the bathroom fan. Completly on accident, the fan is turned on. The vortex of air current is too much for him and he gets sucked out of the room and I assume out of the house. It is finished. I have survived.

I exit the bathroom and go into the living room. Pearl asks me what was going on. I told her that I was killing a fly, the whole time keeping my back to her so she couldn’t see my tears. She thinks I was laughing. They say that laughter and crying appear the same from behind, apparently they are correct.

I finally am able to look back on that day and reflect on it. I have a question or two. What happened to him? Did he survive the blades of the fan? I think I have my answer.

My dog had some of these in his skin this past summer( Pearl wrote about it here
http://payounger.wordpress.com/2011/08/12/cattle-grub-larvae-disgusting/
 ) She thinks it was just a random fly. But I know it was him and he’s building an army of his children. Some day they are coming for me… Los Hijos de Mosca Del Diablo!!! The children of the Devil’s House Fly…. They are coming for me!!!!!

Baby’s Firsts

I turned 49 a couple of weeks ago and my Mom got me a card . In it she reminded me that I was the baby of the family.  That made me think of all the firsts a baby has, but everyone stops counting firsts after a while.  I recently had another first in my life and that made me think of other firsts that people don’t keep track of. So here are some of my firsts.

Baby’s First…

… Birthday cake. I was four, my mom made me a cake shaped like a  bunny and one shaped like a giraffe. It wasn’t my first cake, but it is my earliest memory.

 …Pinched finger. I remember about the same time I got my finger slammed in a car door. My Dad took me to the doctor and the doctor burned a whole in the nail with a hot paper clip. It must have been sterile because I saw him heat it up with my Dad’s lighter. I’m sure that did the trick. Gotta love military doctors.

 …Round of shots for Italy. I was about five when my Dad got stationed in Italy. I remember having to get caught up on my shots in a hurry. I was the youngest so I needed the most. I felt like a pin cushion.

 …Friend. I don’t know if he was actually a friend, but I remember an Italian kid name Stefano coming to our apartment in Italy. I’m sure there were other friends but he is the one I remember for some reason.

 …Time being hit with a pitch. Baseball was a family thing. My brothers all played and my Dad coached. I was playing Pee-Wee at five. Ironically the first time I can remember being hit with a pitch I wasn’t batting. My brother Gary was warming up for a game and I don’t know if I wandered into the path of the ball or if my brother threw a wild pitch but I got hit in the thigh. It was probably a wild pitch because I wouldn’t walk into the warm area. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it!

 Bee sting. I was walking through the rec fields where we played ball and got stung on the thigh. It was probably no big thing but I was around five and I cried like a baby. I still have a fear of bees. I wrote about it before (
http://bryanyounger.wordpress.com/2008/06/12/buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz/
 )

… Time being thrown out at first. I have always been able to hit the ball well. In my parents slide reels one of the first pictures is one of me hitting a ball, I was around four. My first official game I hit the ball and ran with all my might and was put out at first. I cried the coach comforted me. My next time at bat same thing. I cried some more, more comforting. What I didn’t realize was that in those two outs I made I had driven in four runs. All I could see was that I was out. You know why I was out? Because even though I could catch ( I played catcher), throw and hit, I couldn’t run . I have NEVER been a runner. Still can’t. I hurt my knee as a teenager ( I’ll get to that later)and now they could time me with a calendar.

  …Time being hit with a bat on top of the head. I played catcher in Pee wee baseball and a batter threw the bat. It landed square on top of my head. The kids these days have it too easy. They have helmets behind the catcher’s mask. I didn’t. I think that hit may have broken something in my brain that is yet to be healed. It would explain a lot!

 …Grade teacher. Joy Smith. I don’t know why I remember her name but I do. I also remember thinking that 2+2=22.

 …Plane ride. I know, I’ve been talking about living in Italy. I’m pretty sure that we drove the Country Squire wagon there. I don’t remember flying there. but I do remember flying back to the USA. I slept in the rear of the plane on some open seats laid out as a bed. I also got some pilots wings so if you ever want to let me pilot a plane for you, I’m qualified.

 …Night in a hotel in New York. When we got back to the states we landed in New York and spent the night in a hotel. I remember waking up to a noise that  I had never heard before… traffic. I also remember seeing the statue of liberty from a distance.

… Fall up the steps. Thats right, I said up. I was running up the incomplete stairs from the basement that was being constructed. There was no roof over the stairs and it was raining. I slipped and landed on my nose. Which brings me to…

…X-ray. I had broken my nose on the steps. It was the first X-ray in a file that eventually resembled ” War and Peace”.

… Motorcycle. I loved to ride my minibike I would crack the throttle all the way open and go as fast as I could, not surprisingly the motor seized. My parents replaced it with a 80cc Yamaha dirt bike. It was a lot faster and I could ride wheelies on it. A dangerous combination.

…Stay in the hospital. I actually hurt myself on my sisters 125cc Yamaha. Ironically it was probably one of the most minor crashes I ever had. I was turning around and bumped the front tire on a log. That pinned my knee between the gas tank and the handle bars, then I fell on that side. My brother had to pick me up and put me back on the bike and I rode it back to camp. We went to the hospital the next day, my knee was as big around as my thigh, it was broken. I spent a week in the hospital.

…Sparks of sarcasm. While I was in the emergency room the doctor made some passive aggressive comment to me like” I thought parents didn’t let their kids ride motorcycles anymore.” I replied,” That’s what you get for thinking.” He made some other comment I can’t remember, but I remember my response,” There you go thinking again.” My brother later bought me a book published by MAD magazine called ” Snappy Answers to Stupid Questions” , the world has never been the same since.

… Time being tortured by a sadistic doctor. My knee was broken and the doctor knew this and yet he checked my ligaments in the knee by tying them together and spreading my legs out to the sides, you know, the direction your knees aren’t supposed to bend. It was simply the most pain I have ever been in.  A shot of  Novacain would have been nice. The nurse even told my mother that ” That was rough.” I still think he was getting even for me being a smartass.

…gray hair he gave to his mother. After I got my cast off I was out riding wheelies in the back yard on the 80 Yamaha. I couldn’t walk, but I could ride. She looked like a ghost when she saw me.

 Well this is getting quite long so I think I will cut this short. The traumatic event that caused me to write this blog was this .

Baby’s first….( Drum roll please)

BIFOCALS!!!! Bi friggin focals! When did I get old? How is it possible that I need them? I am after all the baby of the family. I guess now that I’m a grandfather I needed the grandpa glasses to go with it. I just couldn’t read anymore. Through my glasses my arms were too short. Without my glasses I would practically have to put my nose on the page to see it. So I guess it was time.

Jeanie! What Have You Been Up To?

 My friend Jeanie has just returned to blogging after a hiatus.(
http://www.jeanierhoades.com/
)  I know what she was doing during this time. I heard about this on the news so I had to look it up. This is an excerpt of an article I found from a webpage ( here ). I think her  tomato addiction is spinning out of control.

The article:

Rising food costs spur massive US theft of produce, meat

Reposted from:
http://www.prisonplanet.com/rising-food-costs-spur-massive-us-theft-of-produce-meat.html

April 18, 2011 @ 5:17 am

Ethan A. Huff,
Natural News
April 18, 2011

Forget diamonds and cash. Rapid inflation and the tanking US economy have birthed a whole new wave of organized crime involving food. The New York Times(NYT) reports that a group of highly-sophisticated scam artists recently pulled off a massive food heist involving eight tractor-trailer loads full of produce and meat, all worth roughly $300,000.

The food theft was no ordinary theft, either. According to reports, the mystery thieves carefully planned the hijacking to coincide with high-priced tomatoes and other produce items that have seen heavy inflation in recent months. And instead of merely stealing the truckloads, the masterminds actually sent their own imposter trucks to pick up the loads, and pretended to deliver them to various intended destinations.

“I’ve never experienced people targeting produce loads before,” said Shaun Leiker, an assistant manager at Allen Lund, a trucking broker from Florida who has seen numerous cargo thefts, to NYT. “It’s a little different than selling TVs off the back of your truck.”

Leiker’s reasoning, of course, makes sense under normal economic conditions. But with massive unemployment,food shortages, and inflation, food has become a new high-value commodity that criminals appear to be increasingly targeting. And as food prices continue to rise, some authorities worry that food crimes will only escalate further.

I have one question  who would buy a truckload of tomatoes? Maybe this is a clue.

I’m thinking that this may be a new Heavenfest event this year. Or maybe she just needs something to throw at me. On a side note I notice that in the video there is not one person actually eating a tomato.

I’m On Vacation, Therefore I’ll Blog… Or… I’m Baaaaaaack!… Again!

I know I’ve been gone a while but I’ve been really busy. I was doing important stuff like, working on the house , just working , watching Pearl work on her sign, clipping my toenails, washing my hair…etc. OK maybe I wasn’t that busy, just lazy. I promise that I will really get back to work on my blog …really I do . I mean it this time. Really I do!

 I have some old blogs that are half completed that I’ll be posting soon. They may seem a little old but They will finally be published.

Talk to you later, Bryan

Brooks and Dunn Broke Up

How can this be? Not Brooks and Dunn no way! NOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 Ok, so I’m not that broken up about it. But I thought I would mark the occasion by remembering all the good times I’ve had to their music. HMMMMMMMMMMM… I guess I’m done remembering. Being the biggest country music fan ever ( pretty much hate all forms of it), I don’t think I’ve ever heard one of their songs. So I  did a little research and this is what I found.

  I searched ” Brooks and Dunn biggest hit” and found  on Wikipedia that they were the most successful duo in all genres of music. Really? They’re bigger than Jan and Dean? Simon and Garfunkel? Surely they’re not bigger than Sonny and Cher!  Like I said, I have NEVER heard one of their songs! Wikipedia said that one of their biggest hits was ” Boot Scootin’ Boogie”. With a catchy title like that I’m surprised I’ve never heard it on the classic rock station. So I  looked it up on YouTube. I’m posting this without  seeing it so I’ll be sharing my first thoughts of it after watching the video for the first time with you ( just trying to connect with  my reader(s) on a personal level)  I have my popcorn , soda and upchuck bucket handy and I am ready to watch the video. So here goes …

 Ok, so I can say I have heard one of their songs. YEEHAH! Does that make me a cowboy now? ( Insert pause to empty bucket) I still hate country music. It all has the singer, with the same type of voice, singing the same content, to the same beat. Brooks and Dunn can retire now  with the  knowledge that they have reached me.  They can go off and plan their reunion tour now . I’ll be first in line for the overpriced tickets. ( The last line typed with sarcastic overtones)

25 Years

 On September 7,1985 I married the love of my life. Twenty five years later we’re still here. Still together, still having fun , still in love with each other. I wish I were a better writer, I could write about how wonderful my wife is. How she has loved me when I didn’t derserve it, how she has taken care of me when I was ill, and  how she has always been out of my league.

I wish I were a more romantic husband. I could then come up with a thousand ways to sweep her off her feet.I could  make her feel more loved and more in love with me. I guess I could by her candy, but she is diabetic. I could buy her roses, but they wilt and that’s not a great representation of my undying love for her. We’ll probably go out for a nice dinner someplace, but  I wish there was more. You see my favorite thing in life is just spending time with her. Even if we don’t speak, I feel great comfort just being near her. I get to see her and touch her . I’m quiet, so I probably don’t say it enough, but I love her. With every fiber of my being. I love her. I LOVE HER!

Like I said she’s always been out of my league.

 Happy Anniversary Pearl. Twenty five years and counting.

p.s Do you know why they call it the silver anniversary? That’s what color your hair is when you get to it.