Beck takes a walk down a bad, bad, bad memory lane.....

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

I was thinking about my baby brother. He’s almost exactly 2 years younger than me.

Harry was the biggest klutz, chubby, blond and his feet grew before the rest of him. He also smelled bad.

The worst thing he did was tag along after me. Drove me bat-crap insane.

The summer I was 12 and he was 10yo was especially bad. Daddy made a proclamation: “Harry would not have a cast this year, or else!” There’s No Way we could live with that stench for another long, hot summer.
This meant I had to keep an eye on him.

The first week out he flipped over a swingset bar in another kids yard and a screw caught his upper arm. 13 stitches. I was lectured and reprimanded. I told Daddy: “At least it’s not a cast!” I got deeper in the doo-doo for that remark.

He healed and once again was tracing all my steps. I threatened, I bribed and I begged to no avail. He was my shadow.
Me, being the neighborhood leader :D, meant he garnered some respect. As you’ll see he abused the privilege.

Our next door neighbor had two nephews who came for a month long visit. Uncle Ted was building a tree house for them. Harry was fascinated by the build. He spent a long part of every day sitting on the porch watching.

Hallelujah! I had time to manage my neighborhood reputation back to its former glory. I ruled that 'hood, I swear.

Well, the nephews came. Uncle Ted and they painted the tree house. They made a cool rope/slat ladder you could pull up to keep your enemies at bay.

I tell you what, Harry coveted that fort. For many nights I had to listen to what happened over in the nephews treehouse. I finally heard enough. I told Harry to go over there, climb that ladder pull it up and proclaim yourself the General of Fort Nephew.
Well, the Idget did just that, the next day.

Holy moly, the whole neighborhood was in an uproar. The nephews were crying. Uncle Ted (who was a lawyer, btw) was spouting trespass laws from 15feet down to a 10yo who didn’t understand to keep his hands off my food as I was eating it. He was getting nowhere.
My oldest Sister called Daddy at work. She held the phone away from her ear. I heard Daddy scream “Wasn’t Beck watching him!!!”
Oh, crap.
I was contemplating a slow boat to China and what to pack when my oldest Brother got home from his job. He sez, confidently “I’ll get him down”

He went in the house and made 2 bologna and ketchup sammiches(Harry’s fave) and got a Pepsi out of the icebox.

He went and joined the crowd under the tree and hollered at Harry he had a snack for him. All he had to do was come down get it. Harry stood firm. He sez, “I’m not that hungry.”
We all knew that was a fib. He was ALWAYS hungry.
My Brother tries the ‘oh, ok I’ll feed it to the dog’ trick. It worked!
The nice rope/wood slat ladder flopped down. To our surprise it floated all the way to the ground. In Harry’s nervousness about being a hijacker of the neighbors cool tree house He had untied the big knots that held the ladder attached to the hatch of the treehouse. And forgot, I guess.
Uh-oh.

Again I’m wanting to run away with the next carnival that comes to town, when the crowd got quiet. Harry’s fat legs and feet were dangling from the hatch. He was hollering, " I’ll climb down on the branches, don’t feed my sammiches to the dog." We all screamed “Noooooooo” in unison.

Uncle Ted ran for his extension ladder about the time he got around the corner Harry was hanging by his hands trying to swing his fat butt to reach the nearest branch. Oh, gawd! He almost made it a coupla times. I’m praying, aloud I think.
The busybody neighbor Lady from across the street sez, to me…“Girl, you’re gonna be grounded til you’re 18yo!”

Now, you gotta know I wanted to kill Harry, but the little shit was gonna fall to his death without my help. And, I was doomed. There would be matching caskets at our funeral. He would be mourned and I would be vilified for eternity.

I run under the tree and told Harry to climb back in, we’re getting a ladder. He sez, “I can’t " I told him to try and I would give him my dessert every night for a week.” I begged him to try harder.

My older Brother says, “Here comes Daddy.”
I looked over my shoulder, the bologna/ketchup sammiches (Harry’s fave) hit the dirt. Dog jumps on them. The neighborhood Busybody was drinking the Pepsi.

That was my last formed thought/memory.
When I woke up I had a cast on my arm.
Apparently I broke Harry’s fall. He was fine. Not even a bruise.

Daddy said, “What do you have to say for yourself, young lady?”
I said, " At least Harry doesn’t have a cast"
I got in deeper doo-doo for that remark.

2

Your family is lovably weird.

What little brother wants to hang out with his big sister?!?

I sure didn’t. Couldn’t get out from under her overbearing thumb fast enough when I was a kid.

3

Remind me to tell you time Harry fell off a bridge.
Or the time he bit the teenage girls butt at the pool.

4

This one may be your best yet, Beck. What a great story!

I hope that was your last cast.

5

Hi, Dork. Where have you been?
Of course my little brother wanted to hang with me. I was ‘cool’
mostly he wanted outta of the way of our big bossy sister

6

I was the little brother, and wanted nothing to do with my older brother. We had nothing in common except DNA.

And bologna and ketchup sammiches? Who eats bologna and ketchup sammiches?

7

My crazy brother Harry. He still likes them. He came to visit me in the hospital and I was telling his new GF a few of his secrets. She told me he eats ketchup on bologna sammiches. I told her, yeah I knew that about him.

8

When Harry started 7th grade a nice little cutiepie with brown hair moved to town. And she was in his class.
Alphabetically she sat right front him.
He was besotted with the little brown-haired floozy.

Harry never had too much motivation to shower. He didn’t care how nasty he was or how bad he smelled.
Occasionally, Daddy would threaten to drive him thru the carwash strapped to hood if he didn’t get his butt in the shower.
Us girls were just grossed-out the back door with some of his bodily odors.

Imagine our surprise on the 2nd Monday of that school year and Harry comes down smelling like Old Spice and Right-guard deodorant.
A little TOO much like Old Spice and Right-guard.
I stepped out of the kitchen door to eat my pop-tart. Everyone else just sat there eating and trying to look casual.
Daddy was already gone to the office. Our housekeeper was there to hurry us on to the school bus stop, so she could start getting drunk. Took her all day. She neefedvan early start.

One thing Miss Love (her actual moniker) was, was outspoken. Especially on school mornings. Hangovers make loose lips, I guess.
She finally said, “Harry, you smell like a whore in church!” She wanted him to go wash some of it off but the bus was coming.
So we had to smell him all the way to school I wouldn’t let him anywhere near my bus riding pals. Nope. Nope. Nope.

He sat up front with some of his classmates. They teased him mercilessly. He came back and told me they were bugging him.
WTH? I didn’t spray that crap on him. What did he want me to do. Go up and fight 6 or 8 preteen boys. Stoopid boy. I punched him in the arm and told to go sit with 1st graders.
They teased him after hearing the bigger boys. He was a nervous wreck by the time we got to school.

I thought to myself this will be a life learning skill he’ll learn. He be a better man for it. Feel guilty? No, why do you think that?

I was happy to pass by his hall and watch him.go to his class. Thank god, fresh air.

At lunch the grades ate one after another. As my grade was filing in the 7th graders were finishing. I smelled the tell-tale smells of preteen boys and Old Spice. Take my word for it, it wasn’t pleasant.
Harry didn’t seem too sad eating on a loooonnnng table alone. I poked him as we walked by. He said ‘ouch’ too loud and teacher on duty came over. I conned my way outta that. By battin

9

( missed the edit)
Anyway, I batted my eyelashes and conned my way out of trouble that and I believe the teacher want to get away from Harry and his aroma.
That night Daddy sat Harry down and gave him the ‘less is more’ talk.

The next morning Harry came down from the shower with wet hair. Wet hair that wouldn’t dry. WTH?
Miss Love looked at his hair close and exclaimed “Boy, what did you wash your hair with?”
Harry sez “That shampoo in a tube called Preparation H”
He was forever nicknamed ‘Hemmoroid Head Harry’ after that.

His bus ride wasn’t much better that day.

Life lesson learned, little Bro.You’ll be the better man, for it.

The little floozy with brown hair never paid him any noticed.
She moved away after that school year.

Harry went back to stinkin’ up the joint for a couple more years.

10

So… ‘Hemorrhoid Head Harry’ grows up(lots of things happen before he gets here)

He hits age 15. All of a sudden he’s not fat anymore. He’s big alright. And still eats like a horse.
He has nice blond locks that cascade down his neck in cute little ripples. I believe the Prep H hair treatments are why this phenomenon occurs.
He has a Kirk Douglas type cleft in his chin. That came from stitches he had there, from a bicycle wreck.
All the teeney bopper girls swooned in his wake.
Me and my 2 younger sisters are gobsmacked. Apparently these dumb girls forgot how bad he smelled just a few months ago.
It turns out he’s very athletic. Daddy pushes him toward athletics at school and he excels in all. Which serves to make him ‘somebody’ in the popularity ranks.

It was disgusting.

How could my stinky little brother be considered one of the ‘cool kids’?
This did not compute.

I continue to torment him at home. I do not forget how gross he was.
I especially like punching his arms when he gets too close to me.

One afternoon we’re in the T.V. room watching afterschool shows. I have a bag of popcorn I micro’d.
He sticks his hand in and grabs some. I scoot over on the couch.
He scoots over and grabs more of MY popcorn. I told him to cease and desist. In, what I believe was a very rational tone.
I get up and move to a chair. He follows me over and reaches toward my bag.

I stood up and punched his arm hard.
Holy crap, that hurt my hand. His arm was hard as a tree trunk.
Well. Things have changed. I tried to convince myself that it was temporary.

The pecking order in a house full of siblings just couldn’t be so easily rearranged. I was the Big Sister he was the Little, stoopid, fat disgusting Brother.

I admit, I still think of him like that.
I know that dude must stink up his own house.
He’s had a long series of wives and girlfriends.
I rest my case.

11

Oh, lurking about now and then.

12

Bumping for a new chapter on my Little Brother Harry:
When Harry graduated highschool he was slated to go to a state university on an athletic scholarship. He was no where near brilliant but he carried a ‘B’- ‘C’ average in highschool (can’t remember a grade point#)

Daddy felt like he could carry that over to higher education.
My Daddy really preferred young men to join the service, but he was really stoked about his youngest son playing on a college team.
My elder brother was already in the Marines.

I really questioned Harry’s ability to have impulse control. Being closest to my age I knew, more than others how stoopid he was.
I told this to Daddy. He poo-poo’d my whole sisterly concern.

That fall Harry gets a cool car (used, but uber cool) and sent off to his freshman year. Highhopes round-about. Even I convinced myself he had matured, maybe. :dubious:

The first aroma of trouble was his lack of budget concerns. Daddy was pulling out his hair out sending him money. It wasnt easy as it is now. Western union or mail. I even drove to his campus once with cash for him.
I found him in a dorm room that I was scared to step in. It was nasty beyond belief. I told him I’d wait in the common area. He was dragging his feet so I walked back toward his room and he was sitting on a bench with a girl on his lap and another flirting her butt off for him.
What is wrong with these girls? He was just so gross and rude to make his Sister wait. I shouted at him he stood up fast and the girl slid to the floor. “WTH was he doing?” I asked.
He stammered around and jogged down the hall toward me. I gave him the money and Daddy’s admonishment that there would be no more cash this month. And I left.

It bothered me. There were 100s of beer cans in his dorm room. I don’t know that he had a dorm-mate. If he did, it was probably his dead body I smelled. Lost under the garbage.

I didn’t say anything. He didn’t come home for Thanksgiving. I was planning on talking to him then. But he had a game trip pretty far away.

The next I heard from him he called and asked me to write a paper for his English class so he could pass. I told him “No”, but I said I’d help him write it over the phone no less. Of course his phone got cut off the very next day. Jesus, that boy.

I called Daddy and told him all. I told him he had better go check on him.
Daddy went. After consulting the Dean and the coach Daddy pulled him home by the ear.

The next time I saw Harry he was graduating Boot camp in the Marines.
He cut a fine figure of a Marine.

He came home on his boot leave. The girls were lined up down the street to get to see him. The phone never stopped ringing.

I needed to use the phone and he was once again monopolizing it. I walked up and punched his arm hard. Ouch, will I never learn? He faked like it was painful to him and laughed. He hung up his call and I took off running. He chased.

Hmm. I could still out-run his musclebound ass.
How could somebody so gross and stinky come out of abject failure at his freshman year on an athletic scholarship, end up smelling like a rose?

I’ll never understand it.

13

Even roses need a little fertilizer now and then?

…or, with all that manure, there had to be a pony in there somewhere!

14

:smiley:

15

How long did Harry stay in the Marines?
~VOW

16

What a delightful story! :slight_smile:

17

Beck and Harry and the rest of her family would make great cozy mystery characters. They’ve got the right personality, the right kind of humor, while still being likable and making you want to read more.

18

He was active duty 6 years.
And then reserves.

He came to see me while I was in the hospital. He never fails to make me laugh.

He’s still a stoopid, stinky, little jerk:D

19

As it turned out, Harry did get a degree after the Marines.
He teaches music in a junior highschool. My whole family is musical (save me, can’t tote a tune in a bucket).

His first wife found living on a teachers pay difficult. Instead of getting her ass off the couch slurping gin and tonics, she encouraged Harry to get a side hustle.

He thought about it for a while. He had access to some equipment from his school so he had cards printed up: “Harrison’s DJ service” (he really had a problem with his name). It went on to state he was ‘Available for wedding receptions or parties. Any genre.’

Now Harry has a good voice, plays piano well and guitar. Maybe a horn or two.
There’s no way he could handle ANY genre of music. He felt he could bullshit his way through it, though. I’m not even sure he understood how a flashy DJ works
His first gig was a wedding of a 20 something white couple. They wanted light and breezy pop music. He got through that. They gave him a few referrals. He was cheap. He had undersold hisself. What a big dummy. It was costing more and more to travel to these wedding venues. Sometimes he had to stay overnight in a hotel.
Now, this wasn’t buying Deidre (wife)anymore gin. She wasn’t happy. She was spending her weekends alone and drunk.
Til she decided to go with him one weekend. He was working a private dance for older adults. They wanted dancing music from the Big Band era. Deidre realized it had an open bar. Hell yeah.

Well. She got plastered and was making a spectacle of herself. Harry had to drag her away kicking and screaming. Literally, screaming. They wouldn’t let her have “one for the road”

Harry didn’t get paid for that job. In the brouhaha he lost an expensive microphone/ stand that belonged to his school.
He was out the hotel, the cost of replacing the equipment. When the school found out it nearly cost him his job.

Him and Deidre divorced soon after. So it cost him his wife and home as well.

He deducted all those costs off his income tax. Got audited. Had to hire a tax lawyer.

He claims he’s still paying for that HUGE mistake.

Then on to his next ex-wife.
Let me tell you, folks she was nearly the death of the whole family. If she had been bipolar it would’ve been easier to deal with.

I’ll tell that story another time.

After ex-wife number 3 we all quit learning their names or going to the weddings. Never had a good DJ, anyway.

20

Harry’s 2nd wife was a piece of work.
She had a taste for excitement Harry was not providing.
He was still teaching music at a junior high. His side hustle was music director/ youth choir director at one of those huge churches. They actually paid him well. And the school didn’t mind.

His wife couldn’t tolerate the church. But she liked the cash. Harry asked for special prayer for her, every Sunday, religiously.
All the blue haired Granny’s just tsk-tsk’d and offered him food. The way to his heart was food, as always. He ate it up, you could say. He was loved at that church.

The problem was he was not religious. I don’t think he even believed in a higher power. Unless it was Chesty Puller, an old, famous Marine.

But, he carried it off.
Until …
A pair of Sisters joined the church. Sexy, flirty and in the choir. They didn’t sing especially well. But they wanted to. They needed special help from the affable, lovable, & cute Choir director, my baby brother Harry.
They had practice nearly every evening. Wednesday nights they were meeting for coffee before services. Harry was dedicated to ‘helping’ them work on duets.
Their singing still stunk. He was giving them all the special parts. Other choir members were getting peeved about this.

And, uh-oh! Janice, wife number 2 got suspicious about all these goings on. Talk was running amok through town. A real scandal.

Janice was watching and laying in wait.
The church provided Harry with a credit card to buy stuff for the choir. You know music stuff and robes and such?

Well Janice got her hands on it. And, well, went shopping. This was after she spent a month writing hot checks on Harry’s bank account.
He was in deep poop. Every vendor in town had bad checks on him. The bank was breathing down his neck. The rent wasn’t paid for a few months. Utilities were being cut off.
And, the church got the credit card bill.
It was liquor store charges. Phone sex lines charges. Nightclub tabs paid with the card. Victoria secret charges.
Janice had had a good time it seems.
She knew what she was doing.
Harry lost that job.

The Sisters quit the choir and the church.
I thought Harry was gonna get run out of town on a rail, tarred and feathered.
But, no. He kept teaching at the school and kicked Janice to the curb.
He borrowed money from all of us. Got all the back stuff paid. Worked out a deal with the church. He doesn’t tell what the deal was. I think they just wanted him gone.

He paid us back eventually.

And then the dumbass married one of the sisters.
She was/is ex-wife number 3.

He’s has decided marriage is just not for him, finally.
He’s had a series of girlfriends.
His latest one seems nice. For the life of me, I can’t remember her name.
Starts with an ‘A’, I think.