My Brother, The Genius

I just had what could possibly be, the moment for which I've been praying my entire damned life.

It started out innocuous enough. The day after Thanksgiving, my favorite holida (0utside my birthday. So I'm an ass, sue me.) We woke up aroudn 10 and went to go play walley-ball. It was two hours of completley un-coordinated fun (walleyball is impossible to be good at. Screw you, Paul O'Neil for trying to give me any God-damned advice on where to stand, you smug asshole.) . And that's why I like it. We're all equal.

Anyway, afterwards, Bennie-hanna, younger brother extrordinaire and I went home to take 5 minute (count-em, 5-minute) showers and retrieve Ben's significant other/girlfriend of 4+ years, Erin O'Neil (related to the smug bastard, Paul of the same surname). 2 showers and a couple of Gold-Bond splashes to the nethers later (I taught him that) we were meeting the rest of the famn Golemo damily in the River City Mall to see "Walk the Line." Great movie. Honestly. Kicked my butt. Made me want to stop drinking. That's wHy Ivey swtihced ot gUienns nd dicer only. [sips Hornsby (John I love you, baby)]

For the record, Bonhoeffer would fucking LOVE ME right now.

After that, we went and played Apples to Apples. A great game I've heard about for years. Madame, mi madre, kicked everyone's ass. Because no one better, on God's green and purple earth, has the ability to think like other people, than my mother. She kicked our asses. All 9 of us.

As the game was ending, I recieved a phone-call from my favorite person ever to graduate from a Catholic school, (other than Pappacho) Tom "my dad's ironically a foot doctor" Sowlles. He says everyone's going to the place my parent's always told me I couldn't go: The "crew." Resident local bar/Den of iniquity.

"I'm in." I say.

I drive my cousin Andee's car, as well as Andee herself (sorry, I'm reading Restaurant at The End of The Universe right now) to said bar. [Enter smokey entrance] Andee is the shit (and a female) and all is good. We kick ass and in the process, names are taken. Good times.

Eventually, such a bombardment of "wasn't it great back when's" and "remember the time you did that's" and "I'll never forget when you kicked that teacher in the ear's" began to get to me. So I decided my brother and his significant other/girlfriend, Erin O'Neill (sister of that smug bastard, Paul of the same surname) should share in the "fun." It'd be good for them.

So I leave (without hollaring at my ex-girlfriend, Nikki McVeigh-even if you still look hot) and drive home and tell my brother that pretty much half of his grade is at the Crew (for the record 12 kids is nearly, in fact, half his grade). He and Erin, under a blanket and sitting upright is a little weird, but I don't ask... or make eye-contact, agree to come with us. "It'll be interesting, they say" (Erin's still pissed because people never cared about my brother until he went to West Point the year after 9/11... which may be slightly true).

But I'll say this much. I wanted my brother to go. Because I've realized this much in my years since High School. If I can grow up even a smidge. Then other people can too, god-damnit. Zach Steinman has. And Jesus-knows, Zach Steinman... well anyone knows-knows. I wanted his approval so much. It broke my heart in high-school when he told me "y'know, Golemo, how popular you'd be if you drank?" And yet, I think he gets where I was, now. If he can get it, 3 years after my graduation, other can, too. Plus, even if your interests are purely sociological, its hella-fun.

So we all go. I've not had a drink. So much fun. I actually, for the first time since watching my 18-month-old cousin learn my name, got to watch someone learn as I saw my brother learn the same lesson I've learned 3 or 4 times over, because once isn't enough for the average genius.

One night of me choiffering (sp?) Bennie and his significant other/girlfriend of 4+ years Erin O'Neill (sister of the smug bastard of the same surname) around, we end up in our kitchen drinking tastey beers (imported) and remembering better times and how perspective can kick all our asses...

Zoned out for a second listening to music.

Zach "the man" Allen leaves.

Erin O'Neill (sister of the smug bastard of the same surname) needed to go home... cause its 3 AM.

"I can walk," she moronically states.

"It's Illinois" as if anyone had forgotten "its 22 degrees outside. You're not walking home."

[skipping stupid not-so-witty reparte.]

I'm driving her home, in the back seat of my dad's second-hand Luxury Buick/"Old-Man-Mobile" (but he really likes it) with Ben in the back seat. I'm driving Ms and Mr. Daisey.

They smoochey-woochie at her front door.

Ben and I start to chat. He's pissed about things. I'm wanting to hear about him. "Tell me something important" my jewish-mother mantra as become. "Seriously." He pours.

I dole out brotherly advice. And honestly, we end up having a wonderful conversation. I drive my father's (surprisingly comfortable) car around all the tracks for about45 mintutes. My brother, the best friend and God's greatest-ever gift to me, have a wonderful convo. We talk about both the important and the retarded-everyday that so makes up a brother's life. A child's life.

I feel like a good man. I tell him how I only want to affect people. I tell him about Jonah and he says he reads my blog about him.... a lot. I choke back the tears.

And then we come back to the kitchen and talk about authors, theology and the girl I dig between bouts with our toilet. (number 2 comes when it comes)

We listen to some Death Cab and I write this blog.

I love my brother. He loves me. He says my life has improved our families. I can die at 5:45 proud. But I hope I live 'til 10 AM. Cause Pappacho's taking me and Bennie to see Camp Eastman at 8. We've planned to ask him about Grandpa and Grandma Golemo. All we know, between the two of us, is that He was a medic in the 82nd, had an Eagle and that She could, in one movement, kick her shoe off her foot and hit a running pappacho in the back of the head with it as he was fleeing the room. We want more.

I love you Bennie. I love you, dad. I love you God.

Kisses,
Neil