Sunday, May 16, 2010

Don't mess with my baby brother!

I so totally handed Erin of Together for Good a great big meaty rib sandwich this week.  And you probably will have no idea what I just said because I'm speaking Briangreggese.  Anyhow, I told her I would definitely be linking up to Flashback Friday with her while she's babysitting it for Jo.  

And then?

I didn't.

So...Better late than never?  They say that, right?  I know "they" don't really mean it, though.

Flashback Friday!


What is today?  May 16th!  Are you kidding me?!  That means I am 15 days late in posting a birthday post for my baby brother!  

Better late than ... oh! never mind.

My brothers and I were blessed to have parents who knew the horrid conditions of Detroit public schools and they did their darnedest to keep us in the private school run by our church.  My father had over 60 jobs between ages 14 and 48 but he never went a day without a job and my mom worked part-time on and off until they divorced in 1987 when she, obviously, had to go to work full-time.  (I'm rambling, aren't I?)

Our private school was run by our church and in 1986 the school was moved to a different location farther away from us and so a bus was provided for some of the students.  We would get dropped off at our church and the bus would pick us all up there and take us to school.  The bus driver's name was Charles.

One morning, after we had all gotten on the bus and were ready to be transported to school, Stephen, my brother, was singing.  He was singing our revised version of Magic Dance from the movie Labyrinth.  Instead of singing, "What kind of magic spell to use?" he was singing, "What kind of fruit should I use?"  Don't ask.  We were weird kids.  

Anyhow, Charles, the bus driver, told Stephen to stop singing.  But my brother could be quite...umm...belligerent?  Needless to say, he didn't stop singing.  And, really, he wasn't hurting anyone; he was just singing and entertaining the rest of us.  Charles lost it.  He came back to where we were sitting and started to twist my little brother's arm!  Stephen was only 8 years old.   

Then all 43 pounds of me lost it!

And all 43 pounds of me began to wail on that big bully bus driver with my little fists!

It's kind of an urban legend in our home.   I can pick on my baby brother but I will rain down the fury on you if you try to mess with him!  

Happy Belated Birthday, Stevie Wevie Wonder Bread!  I got your back.