My (half) brother, is named Charles.

We was a squirrely little guy, and Charles was too formal for him.  Charlie was his Dad, and we hated Chuck.

That is how he ended up being Chick.

It suited him perfectly, and when he got older he came to hate that name!

Tough titty – he will always be Chick to me, and his son is now the Chicklet.

Unlike most brother / sister relationships, Chick and I got along quite well.

Of course, he was 11 years younger than me, so it’s not like we had a lot in common or had any kind of sibling rivalry going on.

But I put in a lot of hours taking care of him as he grew up.

I loved teaching him the old stuff that was disappearing from the common consciousness – like “Made You Look”.

I would often be the one driving him to school in the morning, since his school (a Catholic school) was across town, and we’d play Made You Look.

I also taught him how to play simple tunes on the organ (yeah, we had a big ass organ in our house), which I was well aware would ultimately drive my folks crazy as he played them over and over and over.

When he was wee – he loved to sit in boxes.

If there was a Chick-sized box in the house, you would find him sitting in it, with just the top of his head poking out.

Like I said, he was a squirrely little guy.

Once when I was babysitting him, he decided to play – say everything Terri says.

I did not enjoy this, and he soon learned about what happens when you really fuck with Terri.

I want you to know that although there can be severe consequences to fucking with me, I give lots and lots of warning that I am approaching the point of no return.

He wouldn’t listen and he finally pushed me to that point.

I locked him outside in his pajamas.

In the middle of winter.

In Michigan.

I admit I still feel bad about that – because I really scared him.

At that point, he had never tried pushing the envelope so far to see how much Terri would take; and he wasn’t sure just how angry I was.

A few years ago, he told me he still remembers that incident and how badly it had scared him.

Hey – I warned him.  Repeatedly.

And I didn’t leave him out there for long – just long enough for the idea of cause and effect to sink in.

Besides, he got my sister and me in big trouble one Christmas when we were burning the wrapping paper and boxes in the fireplace, and he decided to throw in the TV remote too.

Little shit.

But most of the time, we got along.

I was usually happy to drive him places – even let him tag along with me from time to time.

He fit perfectly in the back hidey-hole in the rear of the VW bug.

He was a good kid.

And now he is married and has a kid of his own, and in my book, he’s still a good kid.


And then he no longer fit in the boxes!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s