Hey Michael, I enjoyed that.
But it sort of begs the question: Sister? Mother? I know in a reply to Share many months ago you relayed, what I felt, was a very nice account of some parts of your childhood. It sounds like once everyone reached the teenage years, things took a turn. Not a bad turn, just a different turn. I will relate an experience of mine. My oldest son and I always spent a lot of time together, doing all the traditional things - throwing the ball around the yard. Playing a round of golf on occasion. Having me shuttle him around places - soccer, baseball. The day he turned 16 and got his drivers license, he was pretty much off. Suddenly he entered a new part of his life without much warning. I really don't expect him to return much to the fold until he is maybe 26 or so. Now he is starting his third year of college, and he is having to decide if he wants to study, or party. The studying part had its strongest piece his first semester. Since then, he's been drifting more in the other direction. --- In [email protected], Michael Jackson wrote: > > Another little story about brother. Like most siblings, we > argued and fought a lot, with me on the losing end most of the time as brother > is four years older than me. Brother was also sometimes a sneaky sob. > > Our house had been built by our Uncle Mike and Aunt Helen, > back in the very early fifties. The kitchen had black and white square tiles > and an art deco table. The legs were wooden, the body of the table itself was > some kind of metal that had a porcelain top that was somehow fused onto the > metal underneath. The porcelain was white and the metal black. > > Brother was not only sneaky, but irritating as well. One of > his habits was to take a steel tablespoon, hold it by the handle and beat the > spoon repeatedly on the metal table top. It made a lot of noise and was > extremely annoying. I came home one day, walked into the house through the > garage, through the back door into the pantry and thus into the kitchen. The > Old Man was already in a rage and started raising hell at me. > > I had no idea what he was yelling about. He pointed his > finger at my side of the table. The table was rectangular in shape and was set > flush against one wall. The Old Man sat in the white wooden chair closest to > the door into the den, with his back to his liquor cabinet, I sat directly > across from him with my back to the pantry door, and brother sat with his back > to the kitchen sink to my left and the Old Man's right. > > We always sat in those places and none other in the kitchen. > The Old Man pointed out that a sizeable piece of the porcelain top of the table > on my side had been chipped off. I protested and proclaimed my innocence. The Old > Man really raised hell, because we rented the house from Uncle Mike and Aunt > Helen and the table was theirs. He cussed me out. Brother just sat and smirked > when the Old Man doled out the punishment, restriction or something, I no > longer remember. > > A couple days later I was eating a snack at my usual kitchen > table spot, and I was idly looking at the spoon I had to eat my cereal. For some > reason I wanted to see what kind of noise I could make by framming the spoon on > the table, and as I did so, a tiny piece of porcelain chipped off the metal. > > I was shocked as understanding dawned in me. BROTHER had > been sitting at MY place when no one was there, damaged the table and got me in > trouble. Brother got home shortly and I confronted him in the kitchen. > > "You son of a bitch!" > > "What's wrong with you?" > > "You bastard, YOU'RE the one who tore up the table > here, weren't you?" > > Brother grinned and said "Damn right! I was sitting at > your place and frammed the hell out of the table, and it just chipped off. I > didn't mean to, but it just happened." > > "You better tell the Old Man what really > happened!" > > "Fuck you motherfucker. I ain't tellin' him shit." > > We cussed each other for a while but he wouldn't agree to > come clean. It did no good for me to tell the Old Man what happened because he > didn't believe me and cussed me for lying to him. > > As all this happened when I was still in high school, in the > days prior to TM and any sort of Eastern knowledge for me. I had no idea what > karma was, but karma was taking care of itself without my cooperation. Brother > got his comeuppance and I am going to tell you how karma did it. > > A rare and much loved event would happen once in a blue moon > at our house. The Old Man would announce mid-week "I'm gone be gone > overnight this Saturday." > > "Where you going?" one of us would ask. > > The Old Man would always respond the same way. He would > incline his head, look down his nose and sort of jut his chin at us at the same > time and say very emphatically "None of your gaaawwd daaaaamn > business!" > > No matter how many times we asked, he would never tell us > his destination, but we knew it was a woman. The Old Man was a workaholic and almost > never came home from work early. But on those Saturdays, he would arrive from > the laundry a couple hours earlier than usual, take a shower, wash his hair > (which he did not do every day and was a sure sign of a woman in the offing) and > slick it back with Vitalis. While walking around in clean underwear and a tee > shirt, he would pack his shaving kit, toothbrush and so forth in what my brother > referred to as the Old Man's "ditty bag," put that and a change of > clothes in his valise, put on his best suit and tie and out the door he would > go. > > Now, as teenagers, we saw a Saturday night and at least half > a day Sunday doing as we pleased, eating what suited us and in general getting > up to no good. This weekend was no exception. I told a couple friends the Old > Man was gonna be gone, and to come on over. So it was that George, my best > friend, Jimmy his very good friend whom I only tolerated for George's sake, > Jeff one of Jimmy's friends that I had not invited came over for wine and dope > smoking. > > Brother and his girlfriend were there too. The wine and pot > were flowing freely when the doorbell rang. It was one of George's buddies, > Billy and this gal he was dating Debbie. I had not invited Billy, George had > done so without my knowledge. > > To understand the situation I have to tell you that the Old > Man was buddy buddy with a number of city cops who brought their uniforms to > him at the laundry. The cops would give him inside info on who they were after > for drug violations. > > These city cops had told the Old Man that Billy was not only > a dope user but a dope salesman. And this was absolutely true. Billy was both a > consumer and purveyor of non-prescribed drugs, mainly pot, but sometimes pills > of various kinds. Thus, the Old Man had declared Billy persona non grata at our > house. He was not welcome there and I was not supposed to hang out with him > anywhere anytime for any reason. > > As the evening progressed, everyone got drunker and more > doped up, especially Billy and Debbie. They were loud shouting and laughing and > dancing all over the house, between bouts of making out. After a bit, brother > and his girlfriend left the house. Me and Jeff were in the sitting room at the > front of the house where I usually smoked dope. The others were roaming around. > Suddenly Jimmy came in to tell me that Billy and Debbie were screwing in my Old > Man's bed. Goddamn! > > I went through the house and sure enough they were not only > screwing, they were screwing like hell judging by the noise they were making. I > didn't know what to do. I was too embarrassed to interrupt them, but I sure as > hell didn't want them even in the Old Man's room, much less getting it on in > there. > > > I backed out of the room and went back to the sitting room where me and the > other guys were talking about how we couldn't believe Billy was banging Debbie > in the Old Man's room. Some of the guys began speculating what would happen if > the Old Man suddenly showed up, a thought which disturbed me mightily. > > Eventually Billy showed up in the sitting room, still drunk > and doped up. Â > "What the hell were you screwing her in the Old Man's > room for, man? What the hell is wrong with you?" I asked. > > Billy didn't give a damn. "Aww, fuck it man. We needed > a place to fuck, your Old Man's got a nice bed. What the hell's wrong with > you?" > > I shook my head. After Debbie came into the sitting room > again, I went to the Old Man's room and tried to make up the bed. I discovered > his bath towel under his bed. Evidently it had been used by the loving couple for > cleanup purposes. I was even more chagrined and picking the towel up gingerly > by one corner, threw it in the dirty laundry hamper. I carefully attempted to > return the Old Man's room to it normal state before turning off the light and > going back to the front of the house. > > Billy and Debbie were already gone, and eventually everyone > else left as well. I was alone in the house. Usually I slept in what was > technically my sister's room that had a nice full sized bed in it, just off the > sitting room. But for some reason, I slept in what was technically mine and > brother's room that had twin beds. Sometime in the night brother returned and > slept in sister's room. > > The next thing I knew, it was morning and the Old Man was > leaning over me screaming "What in the hell is goin' on!? What the hell > did you people do?" > > Now the Old Man had no clue that I had anyone over the night > before, except that we did leave the wine bottles around, and a certain amount > of food leavings like empty tater chip bags and so on. I groggily struggled up > and said "What do you mean?" > > "Don't give me that crap, goddamn it! You know exactly > what I'm talking about!" At that moment I really didn't. > > "No I don't. What are you raising hell about?" > > The Old Man stood in the middle of the room and jerked his > right hand toward his bed room. "Come here and I'll show you!" > > He was livid. When he got his mad his face turned red and > the veins and tendons stood out in his neck and that is exactly the way he > looked at that moment. I followed him into his bedroom and the hair stood up on > the back of my neck. I was truly freaked! The Old Man had a big queen sized bed > with a nice carved wooden head board and foot board. It was the bedroom suit > that he and momma had for years before they got divorced. > > The wood carved footboard was leaning against the vanity > dresser and the end of the mattress and box springs were slap on the floor. They > were still attached to the headboard so the mattress was sitting at a forty > five degree angle from floor to headboard. Evidently the Old Man had come back > early after staying out all night and slipped into bed only to have the damn > thing collapse under him, at least the bottom part of the bed collapsed. > > The Old Man pointed at the broken bed. "That's what I'm > talking about! That! What in the hell happened here!?" > > I knew exactly what had happened. Debbie and Billy's sex > relations had been so vigorous it knocked the footboard loose from the rest of > the bed frame, almost completely loose, but not quite, requiring only the Old > Man to flop down under the covers to knock it all the way loose. > > I couldn't admit that Billy was the culprit because then the > Old Man might go through the house looking for dope and had he looked carefully > enough, he would surely have found some. The Old Man knew also that I was inept > with the ladies, so I couldnât assume responsibility for the incident, so I > lied and claimed I had no idea how his bed got that way. > > He accused me of lying, which I was, then asked me who all > had been in the house last night. I told him George, Jimmy, brother and > brother's girlfriend. He didn't know Jeff and I figured he would be suspicious > of a stranger. When he heard "brother and girlfriend" his eyes > narrowed. He knew I had no women, and immediately jumped to the conclusion that > brother was the culprit. > > "Stay here," he commanded and he stalked out of > his room to accost brother. A just awakened brother came into the room with > eyes wide as dinner plates when he saw the sexual carnage and later I found out > he instantly surmised that Billy and his gal were responsible. He also thought > it was immensely funny and couldn't help snickering right in front of the Old > Man which incensed him even further. > > I was off the hook and soon left the room with an immense > feeling of relief as Old Man and brother engaged in a duel of accusation and > denial. The more the Old Man accused him and his girlfriend of screwing in and > tearing up his bed, the more brother got to laughing about it, which in the Old > Man's mind was proof he had indeed been responsible. He really didn't give > brother punishment except to make him help prop up and repair the bed with a > liberal dose of cussing and threats as to what would happen if he ever used the > Old Man's bed again. > > The Old Man died about ten years later, but from that day > till the day he died he believed brother had broken the bed. I was able to use > that belief to get out of trouble or at least take some of the heat off me when > the Old Man would brow beat me for screwing something up. I could look around > at brother and say "At least I never broke anybody's bed." > > The Old Man would cut his eyes over at brother and say > "Yeah, and we know who broke that bed, too don't we?" > > Brother would ALWAYS laugh and snicker as he denied > responsibility for the act which reinforced the Old Man's belief, thus justice > for the table whacking incident for which I had been unjustly accused was > served. > > Under normal circumstances brother would have been all too > happy to squeal on me and get me in all kinds of trouble. Billy was the saving > factor. Brother was under the same onus to avoid Billy and if he told on me, > having already admitted to being in the house with everyone else, he would have > been painted with the same drug tainted brush, which brother wanted to avoid at > all costs. So while he wouldn't take the blame he had to keep quiet about who really > did the deed. > > Karma visited another kind of justice upon some of the > players in the bed breaking event. I found out about three weeks later from George > that the night Debbie and Billy violated my Old Man's bed, she also gave him a > dose of the Old Joe. Which is poetic and ironic since my Old Man's name was Joe > Jackson. > > > I swear to God this is true. Well, it may not have been the Old Joe, > which is a euphemism for syphilis, but she did give him the clap that night. >
