Today is my brother’s birthday. I hope he had an lovely day, because he is awesome.
That was not really the thing I wanted to write about though. Today, since it was his birthday, I was thinking about our childhood a bit. We had a conversation a couple of months ago about how strange, dangerous and downright rad our life was growing up. Here are some of the things that came to mind.
First of all, we lived waaaaay out on what was, at the time, basically the edge of town. We lived by a mesa, where people would dump things like old tires, furniture etc, and where people go to shoot guns, and more recently bury hookers. This is also the mesa featured in the first season of Breaking Bad, where they take the camper. It looks like this:
Anyway, my dad used to drive through it on our way home. We used to play a game involving all the junk, and I have many a fond memory of counting tires, and the song Broken, by Kenny Wayne Shephard is also linked to this game, in my mind.
The second thing I was thinking of is a little fuzzy for me. I couldn’t have been older than about 5 at the time. My grandmother has remodeling her house, or some such, so there was either a ladder or some scaffolding up against the house. We had a tire swing that happened to just reach to the top of the ladder. So, my brother was taking it up to the top, and then swinging down. I decided I want to try, because I’ve wanted to be just like him for my whole life. I made up to the top, but then a bee (or, to be really honest, possibly a fly) came and landed on me, and I panicked and let go. I did not hold on to the swing. I got whipped onto the ground, head first, by the stupid tire swing. My brother was surprised I didn’t die.
Earlier tonight, we were talking about how when I was just a slip of a girl, I thought that when infomercials said “Dial the number on the screen” that my TV screen was some kind of touch screen, and that if I touched the numbers on the screen, I could order the product. I always thought I would get in trouble though, because the commercials also said, “must be 18 to order.” My brother was like, “OH, that’s why you did that!” Tonight was the first my mother had heard about this.
The main thing that stood out to me about alllll of the stories that came to mind (and there were a ton more, I’m just not sure everyone wants to hear my life story right now), is that my brother was with me for all of them. He’s a great guy, and I hope his 26th year is just as wondrous as I remember our earlier years being.