My Brother, The Idiot, and Why I Love Him
My brother, I've called him Jeffery before, and I'll do it again, was born a goose.
He got the name Jeffery, because he didn't mind playing with a little pig. *Ahem, we have a younger cousin that had the nick-name Wilbur when she was little.* In fact, I believe he always wanted to be a little pig; but, like I've said before, he was born a goose.
When we were children, he always had the craziest ideas. In Kindergarten, he and a friend both had a crush on the same girl, so they decided to catch her during recess, and glue her fingers together with gum wrappers. They collected every wrapper off of the school bus floor, in anticipation of showing her how much they adored her.
When that plan didn't go so well, these two little boys decided to make a robot to crush the school. One foot of the robot was to be as big as the school. They planned and schemed. It resulted in an afternoon play-date, in which they managed to drag all of the iron out of dad's iron pile and scatter it all over the yard. Jeffery and I spent the next two weeks cleaning up the mess he made in just a few hours... And the school? It may still be seen standing, to this day.
Numbers and Letters
One of Jeffery's delights was numbers.
He would be sitting at the table, intent on his school work, when "7" would ring through the air. We would look at him, only to see him peacefully working. We (my sisters and I) would go back to our school work, only to hear, "4," or some other such number.
He liked to holler odd numbers, when others where counting. This usually wasn't a problem for anyone but Annie. She would get so flustered at being 'interrupted,' that she would loose her place, and have to start over. This was bad, when baking. She finally began measuring each ingredient into a clean bowl, before mixing, to avoid inedible bread.
He loved to stand next to someone who was dialing the phone, and we had one of those rotary phones, and whisper numbers. Sometimes we had to try three and four times to dial a number correctly. If we told him, "No more numbers," he would stand by quietly until the phone began to ring. As we waited for the other party to pick up, he would whisper names -- often causing us to momentarily forget who we had called.
When we were typing, he would call out letters and words, hoping to hear the clicking stop, as we erased the floating word.
Since Annie, the youngest, was the quickest to show her frustration, he tormented her the most. He loved to follow her around, saying random numbers in the same peaceful, mechanical voice, as the Colorado Lotto:
The Center of Attention
By the time he was in jr. high, he was sure he should be the center of attention at home. If he wanted our attention, regardless of the subject matter, we were suppose to drop whatever we were doing and give him our whole-hearted, undivided attention.
One day, I had had enough. I was working on a sewing project, that was of the utmost importance to me, and he kept stopping me to ask dumb questions and tell stupid jokes. Finally, I decided to ignore him. He could talk while I worked.
Well, I was cutting out the pieces, and he was insisting I would stop and listen to him. I told him, "Talk, if you've something to say."
He said, "No," and put his hand on the cutting line of the pattern piece. A goofy grin was on his face. One that said, "I know how to control you!"
"Move your hand," I told him, in my sternest tone.
"Nope, you stop and listen to me!"
Nope, I cut your hand if you don;t move it!"
"You won't cut me!" Then, "Owe! You cut me! I'm bleeding!" As he ran to run the wound under cold water.
Told you I'd had enough, didn't I? To this day, when he introduces me to someone, he warns them, that if I say I will do something, then I will. After that, he tells them how I cut his hand! ...and that was more than 15 years ago.
Wit and Humor
Jeffery has always been quick on his feet. Coming up with witty things to say is one of his specialties.
The Sleepy Truck
Recently, the truck he was driving went kaput. He called the company to send out another truck, blocks and jacks, so the loaded trailer could be switched and delivered. The company sent a truck, but no jacks or blocks. He was worried that the asphalt would crumble, but the other driver, who had been driving for years, said it would be fine. They used the hitch jack, to set the trailer down, pulled the dead truck out, and began backing the new truck up to the trailer, when a big gust of wind rolled the trailer over.
Soon the accident had been reported, and an officer arrived. When he asked what happened, Jeffery told him that the truck he had been driving was not getting adequate nutrition, and had gotten sick, then the poor overworked trailer decided to lay down and take a nap while waiting for the truck to get better. The officer left laughing.
Jack Be Nimble!
When Jeffery was in the Little Britches Rodeo Association, he traveled to rodeo's all around. After one rodeo, near the Fourth of July, a gaggle of guys was up late shooting off fire works. They had one of those fountain ones, it went and went and went.
Suddenly Jeffery was inspired! Yelling, "Jack be nimble, Jack be quick, Jack jumped over the candle stick," he took of running for the firework, and jumped over it. This inspired others to follow in his foot steps, and soon many of the cowboys where hurdling the little fountain.
Jeffery, having come to a stop, didn't realize others where coming after him, turned and ran back, colliding with another kid, right over the 'candle stick.' Besides burn holes in their jeans and a headache, they were none the source for it.
Even Death can be Funny
I was talking to my brother on the phone, when I read the news that Micheal Jackson had died. "Oh my, Micheal Jackson died!" I exclaimed, interrupting some work related story he was telling.
"What, one too many nose jobs?" was his instant, dry, sarcastic reply.
Protective and Loyal
When I was dating, my brother was the biggest pain in the rear! Everywhere I went, he insisted on going too, and my parents thought it was 'only fair' that he should be able to go. They thought it was safer to have two teenagers driving long distances, than one girl going it alone.
Grrr.... he insisted on hanging out with my friends and interrogating, oops, I mean, befriending every guy who talked to me. He was so busy with his nose in my business, that he hardly had any of his own. Little brothers, arrrggg. I tell you what!
When this all began, he was a hard-core skater. He had long hair, baggy clothes and wore Airwalks. He hung out with other long-haired skaters, listening to Nine Inch Nails and ollieing trash cans. The first time he followed me to camp, he started staying in a dorm with several other skaters, but when he saw I was hanging with cowboys, he switched dorms.
When we got home from camp, he obtained a cowboy shirt and a pair of Wranglers. The next time we went to a camp, he quickly found his way into every cowboyish click. When we got home from that camp, he had me cut his hair, and announced that he wanted to be a bull rider, so he could travel with the guys he'd met at camp!
After spending the weekend at a camp in Montana.
We had been discussing the fun things that went on at camp, our friends and the people we had just met. "Blue is hilarious!" I said, "He always cracks me up with his stupid jokes and long-legged antics."
My brother was quite for a moment, then in a serious tone he said, "Don't ever date him. He only wants one thing and wouldn't treat you well."
Stunned, I looked at him, which almost caused me to miss a turn, I had never considered dating Blue, but I digress. My brother was following me from state to state, camp after camp, to keep an eye out for my well being! *
That evening, he gave me the run down of talk in the 'guys' dorm. He told me who was worth dating and who wasn't. Of the dozen or so guys we hung out with, he highly recommend catching Roland or David, as they were both honest and true. In the end, I married David, but that is another story.
*These events took place over the period of several years.
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