Quill #91 - Every family has one...

My parents, grandmother, middle brother and I were walking down an Omaha city sidewalk toward the optometrist's office where I was supposed to get new glasses. I was twelve or so, which meant my brother was about ten, old enough to not have his hand held constantly. He fell somewhat behind the rest of us and nobody really noticed or worried, assuming he was following along as he should.

My grandma started noticing, first, and then my parents, that every person walking the opposite way was giving us dirty looks, staring at us with outright hatred in their eyes. Puzzled, Grandma looked behind us and discovered Bro
walking as if crippled, using other behaviors to suggest a mentally challenged person, as well. Everyone who passed us thought we were ignoring our poor handicapped child!

I don't know why he bent his intellect toward causing trouble, but he was always a master at that skill.

(images from Lolcats)

Quill #81 - Halloween Memories #4

My middle brother was visiting me at college. We were walking together through the alleys and city streets near my off-campus apartment. It was dark and cold, but not particularly late. We were bundled up in jackets and gloves and just being companionable, for once.

We passed the exit of a bar just as three soused college students came out. For some reason, they encircled me and started teasing, not letting me pass. I grew angry, mostly upset that they were spoiling a rare fun time with my brother. I pulled off one of my soft fuzzy mittens and began flapping it across the face of the ringleader, several times. It probably tickled him, but did no harm. I think I was also furiously repeating, "Let me go, right now!"

He laughed, threw up his hands and backed away, nodding to his friends to release me. I hooked arms with my brother and we continued onward, leaving the amused threesome behind. I don't know if Bro was looking at me with respect or borderline horror, but he seemed impressed that I had stood my ground (as if I had a choice) armed with only my gumption and a white cloth glove.

Quill #79 - Halloween Memories #3

My brother cooked up a scheme. We had seen kids going around with cans to trick-or-treat for UNICEF. They were always given money instead of candy. He wanted to see if we could get some quick cash, too. I didn't often agree with his nefarious plans but this time I did. I knew my dad didn't like UNICEF, the organization, and I figured he wouldn't be too upset over this ruse if we were caught. Plus, in our little town, UNICEF cans were rare. What could go wrong?

We tried it one time and never again. Our very first house, we knocked on the door, smiled our innocent best, and - in unison - said the magic money phrase, "Trick-or-treat for UNICEF!"

The elderly man we had just accosted with our cuteness immediately noticed our lack of a papered collection can. Bro, the cannier of us, replied that we had forgotten it at home. Our neighbor peered at us with suspicion but dropped two nickels into each of our bags. We were ecstatic. Twenty cents on our first gig!

But then, the man continued. I guess he felt guilty about accusing us of fraud. He told us he hadn't had time to go out and buy any candy but we should wait a moment. He went back into his house and brought out an unopened package of cookies, put them into my bag and asked me to be sure to share with my little brother. We said we'd share and thanked him several times for his kindness.

At the car, Mom wanted to know what had taken so long. We told her everything except our deception. But, when she said the man had probably given us the only treat he owned for the next month, we both started crying. The guilt was too much to bear.

We had a short journey that night. My brother and I never told our parents and never spoke to each other about what we'd done. We held the shame silently. I don't know if he even remembers now. All I know is that I keep four nickels and a package of cookies on hand every year at Halloween, just in case.