22 June 2007

Wish You Were Here...


This "neener, neener" goes out to my brother, without whose childhood torment I would have never grown up to be the psychologically warped individual I am today. Not to mention I would have missed out on the BB gun scar on the back of my leg, the scar on the front of my leg from when you disconnected the brakes on my bike, the fear of speeding hockey pucks from when you needed one more player and told me to stand in front of the goal and guard it... and your team sucked at defense... the scar by my eyebrow from when you convinced me to sled down Devil's Elbow, because making the 45 degree turn at the bottom was 'easy'. "Just throw your body sideways and shift the sled". Uh huh. Forgot to mention the ditch on the far side of the turn, didn't you, Bro?


When I'm out here on the back nine, I'll think of you. Probably as I'm trying to fight my way out of the sand trap. (I really wish you'd taught me to play golf, and not Marco Polo.) Ah well. Wish you WERE here. Then maybe I could collect that beer you owe me.

11 comments:

Anonymous said...

I'll 'fess up to the sledding mishap,which I vaguely remember......as to the rest,I plead the fifth?

It was tough love,tough love before it became popular!

Just getting you ready for the real world!

Sounds like I owe you more than A beer....(standard 12 oz'er).....maybe I'll get you a quart.......

Love,
Yer Brudder

Tracy said...

Brings back memories of childhood, thanks guys.

My brother locked my little sister in the coal bin and threw a smoke bomb in with her among other things.

Glad I'm the oldest.

Gabriele C. said...

Lol, sounds like your average redneck childhood.

I have a scar above my nose from when my brother threw me against the table. But else he's the one with the scars. :)

Constance said...

Plead the 5th or can't get the brain pan firing? Memory loss so soon, Bro? I forget, you're older. *g* The real world doesn't gun their motorcycle by their sister's horse...

On the other hand, some microbrew will go a long way. Much cheaper than therapy.

Only 111 degrees out here today. Thank doG for air conditioning.

Constance said...

Tracy, being oldest gives you license to torment. Just ask my kids. Although being youngest does make for some nifty revenge schemes.

Gabriele? Redneck? Nah, just your basic half-Italian blood feud. We usually got along fine on vacation... there we turned our talents to annoying other people. :)

Also, it's amazing how a well timed "Moooooooommmmmm!" can be played. Hit the right pitch, and here comes the cavalry.

Gabriele C. said...

Half Italian, eh? No wonder you get along fine on vacation - already the Romans stuck together against the barbarians. :)

Anonymous said...

I just realized how unfair it is to spar online with my sister....what with her having a couple of degrees and such...and I.....just a thirteenth grade education and 30 years of trade experience.

Sorry Connie....-I- have the advantage!

Italian redneck?
Anything like a "spaghetti western"???

carlg1200 said...

http://www.abcnews.go.com/Health/story?id=3308019&page=1

Constance said...

Gabriele, Our ancestors on the half Italian side were Romans... so yeah, it's probably in our blood to pick on barbarians. :)

Bro, I wouldn't mess with anyone who can program fire alarms, air conditioning, AND electricity. Could be dangerous!
Italian rednecks drink microbrew, not Chianti. Just so you know. And as far as oldest children being smarter... that was a story written by an oldest child to make himself feel better that his little sister could kick his butt in chess and skeet shooting. :P

Anonymous said...

The hell you say!

Constance said...

What, has your memory lapsed now that you are so old? Newsflash, not only do I get to pick your nursing home, I get to bury you in that tux you hate. It's good to be the youngest. :P It's all about revenge. Or wait, is that the Italian half talking?