Excellent, again, Michael! Your stories of your Dad, and family are hilarious, but also full of love - Your Dad sounds a lot like my Father-In-Law, former marine sniper, and driver of big rigs, out West though. Also has a .44 Magnum.
He tells a story of a couple of Hells Angels, speeding up their bikes in front of his truck and then slowing down, repeatedly, until he just got fed up, pulled over the truck, they stopped, and he got out of the cab, with a tire iron, and said, "Which one's first??". They took off. Or the time he and his buddies were running a convoy in the fog and at night, lights off - You used to be able to get away with that, before radar - and his wife was in the cab. At some point, going about 90, he switches on the headlights, and is literally inches from the truck ahead - She lets out a blood curdling scream, and he has trouble maintaining control of the rig. And those, I assure you, are the tamer stories. My wife is also a chip off the old block, leaping bareback onto a wild horse, and sailing around the world, (not at the same time...) but that's for another post. Your stuff rocks! Keep it up! P.S. Wie für Barry, bis nächste woche warten! That's fifty for me. --- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com, Michael Jackson <mjackson74@...> wrote: > > I believe this is 50 posts for me, so yep I have a sister - she is 8 years > older than me, 4 years older than brother, so during this time period I was > describing she was off at college (Clemson, then graduate work at Emory in > Atlanta) she had some stuff at the house but mostly we only saw her on > holidays and a little in the summer, tho she seemed to have other places to > be in the summer vacation times. > > Her role in most of these incidents was being appalled at the things me, > brother and the Old Man did, like the time Sister and her best friend came > home one weekend and as > they were walking in the door, the Old Man threw a dumbell into a 6 foot > tall mirror and smashed it - it wasn't actually done in violence it was an > accident, but they were appalled. > > Or the time, as a freshman in college sister brought a nice male friend home > for a weekend, everything chaste, everyone in separate bedrooms and all that > - Saturday afternoon the Old Man comes home in the middle of the day (which > he never did) walked in the house as sister and male friend were sitting at > the kitchen table looking at her high school year book, walks in with his > .357 Magnum handgun in his hand, circles the table while hefting the gun, you > know, kind of tossing it slightly in the air and catching it again as he > circles the table once and walks out without a word. > > My mother is still living, 85 and still able to drive a 32 foot Winnebago a > whole lot better than me or brother. She is living with her now 5th husband, > a retired Air Force guy, very > nice fellow who > unfortunately is in the advanced stages of Alzheimer's. > > During the time of the stories I have been sharing Mom was married to hubby > #2, and working for the Social Security Administration in one of the local > offices. > > I know it is a breach of FFL etiquette but since I am reviled for breaches I > have not committed, I am going to get now reviled for this breach: making > comments on several disparate posts all at once. > > To wit: I am convinced from yesterday and today's posts by Buck that the real > Buck has been replaced by someone else. The vituperation he is expressing > isn't like Old Buck, Saatvic Buck. Can Share or someone go check on him and > make sure he hasn't been taken hostage by an angry crop circle stomping alien? > > Also, I found Barry's post about Glee very funny, as my daughter my daughter > LOVES Glee, so does her mom - they watch it religiously. > > For > myself, I am partial to Grimm - it was a real long time since I had > watched any network tv, but after my favorite show, Warehouse 13, got > canceled, I was looking around and discovered Grimm - tried to get > daughter and her mom to watch the pilot episode, but mom screamed so > loud when the werewolf burst through the window after Grimm, which > caused daughter to jump and scream, well I decided to watch Grimm on my > own. > > See y'all Saturday! > > > > > > ________________________________ > From: seventhray27 <steve.sundur@...> > To: FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com > Sent: Wednesday, August 7, 2013 8:38 AM > Subject: [FairfieldLife] Re: Another True Brother Story > > > >  > Hey Michael, > I enjoyed that. > But it sort of begs the question: > Sister? > Mother? > I know in a reply to Share many months ago you relayed, what I felt, was a > very nice account of some parts of your childhood. > It sounds like once everyone reached the teenage years, things took a turn. > Not a bad turn, just a different turn. > I will relate an experience of mine. > My oldest son and I always spent a lot of time together, doing all the > traditional things - throwing the ball around the yard. Playing a round of > golf on occasion. Having me shuttle him around places - soccer, baseball. > The day he turned 16 and got his drivers license, he was pretty much off. > Suddenly he entered a new part of his life without much warning. > I really don't expect him to return much to the fold until he is maybe 26 or > so. Now he is starting his third year of college, and he is having to > decide if he wants to study, or party. The studying part had its strongest > piece his first semester. Since then, he's been drifting more in the other > direction. > > --- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com, Michael Jackson wrote: > > > > Another little story about brother. Like most siblings, we > > argued and fought a lot, with me on the losing end most of the time as > > brother > > is four years older than me. Brother was also sometimes a sneaky sob. > > > > Our house had been built by our Uncle Mike and Aunt Helen, > > back in the very early fifties. The kitchen had black and white square tiles > > and an art deco table. The legs were wooden, the body of the table itself > > was > > some kind of metal that had a porcelain top that was somehow fused onto the > > metal underneath. The porcelain was white and the metal black. > > > > Brother was not only sneaky, but irritating as well. One of > > his habits was to take a steel tablespoon, hold it by the handle and beat > > the > > spoon repeatedly on the metal table top. It made a lot of noise and was > > > extremely annoying. I came home one day, walked into the house through the > > garage, through the back door into the pantry and thus into the kitchen. The > > Old Man was already in a rage and started raising hell at me. > > > > I had no idea what he was yelling about. He pointed his > > finger at my side of the table. The table was rectangular in shape and was > > set > > flush against one wall. The Old Man sat in the white wooden chair closest to > > the door into the den, with his back to his liquor cabinet, I sat directly > > across from him with my back to the pantry door, and brother sat with his > > back > > to the kitchen sink to my left and the Old Man's right. > > > > We always sat in those places and none other in the kitchen. > > The Old Man pointed out that a sizeable piece of the porcelain top of the > > table > > on my side had been chipped off. I protested and proclaimed my innocence. > > The > Old > > Man really raised hell, because we rented the house from Uncle Mike and Aunt > > Helen and the table was theirs. He cussed me out. Brother just sat and > > smirked > > when the Old Man doled out the punishment, restriction or something, I no > > longer remember. > > > > A couple days later I was eating a snack at my usual kitchen > > table spot, and I was idly looking at the spoon I had to eat my cereal. For > > some > > reason I wanted to see what kind of noise I could make by framming the > > spoon on > > the table, and as I did so, a tiny piece of porcelain chipped off the metal. > > > > I was shocked as understanding dawned in me. BROTHER had > > been sitting at MY place when no one was there, damaged the table and got > > me in > > trouble. Brother got home shortly and I confronted him in the kitchen. > > > > "You son of a bitch!" > > > > "What's wrong with you?" > > > > "You > bastard, YOU'RE the one who tore up the table > > here, weren't you?" > > > > Brother grinned and said "Damn right! I was sitting at > > your place and frammed the hell out of the table, and it just chipped off. I > > didn't mean to, but it just happened." > > > > "You better tell the Old Man what really > > happened!" > > > > "Fuck you motherfucker. I ain't tellin' him shit." > > > > We cussed each other for a while but he wouldn't agree to > > come clean. It did no good for me to tell the Old Man what happened because > > he > > didn't believe me and cussed me for lying to him. > > > > As all this happened when I was still in high school, in the > > days prior to TM and any sort of Eastern knowledge for me. I had no idea > > what > > karma was, but karma was taking care of itself without my cooperation. > > Brother > > got his comeuppance and I am going to tell you how karma did it. > > > > A rare and much loved event would happen once in a blue moon > > at our house. The Old Man would announce mid-week "I'm gone be gone > > overnight this Saturday." > > > > "Where you going?" one of us would ask. > > > > The Old Man would always respond the same way. He would > > incline his head, look down his nose and sort of jut his chin at us at the > > same > > time and say very emphatically "None of your gaaawwd daaaaamn > > business!" > > > > No matter how many times we asked, he would never tell us > > his destination, but we knew it was a woman. The Old Man was a workaholic > > and almost > > never came home from work early. But on those Saturdays, he would arrive > > from > > the laundry a couple hours earlier than usual, take a shower, wash his hair > > (which he did not do every day and was a sure sign of a woman in the > > offing) and > > slick it back with Vitalis. While > walking around in clean underwear and a tee > > shirt, he would pack his shaving kit, toothbrush and so forth in what my > > brother > > referred to as the Old Man's "ditty bag," put that and a change of > > clothes in his valise, put on his best suit and tie and out the door he > > would > > go. > > > > Now, as teenagers, we saw a Saturday night and at least half > > a day Sunday doing as we pleased, eating what suited us and in general > > getting > > up to no good. This weekend was no exception. I told a couple friends the > > Old > > Man was gonna be gone, and to come on over. So it was that George, my best > > friend, Jimmy his very good friend whom I only tolerated for George's sake, > > Jeff one of Jimmy's friends that I had not invited came over for wine and > > dope > > smoking. > > > > Brother and his girlfriend were there too. The wine and pot > > were flowing freely when the doorbell rang. It was > one of George's buddies, > > Billy and this gal he was dating Debbie. I had not invited Billy, George had > > done so without my knowledge. > > > > To understand the situation I have to tell you that the Old > > Man was buddy buddy with a number of city cops who brought their uniforms to > > him at the laundry. The cops would give him inside info on who they were > > after > > for drug violations. > > > > These city cops had told the Old Man that Billy was not only > > a dope user but a dope salesman. And this was absolutely true. Billy was > > both a > > consumer and purveyor of non-prescribed drugs, mainly pot, but sometimes > > pills > > of various kinds. Thus, the Old Man had declared Billy persona non grata at > > our > > house. He was not welcome there and I was not supposed to hang out with him > > anywhere anytime for any reason. > > > > As the evening progressed, everyone got drunker and > more > > doped up, especially Billy and Debbie. They were loud shouting and laughing > > and > > dancing all over the house, between bouts of making out. After a bit, > > brother > > and his girlfriend left the house. Me and Jeff were in the sitting room at > > the > > front of the house where I usually smoked dope. The others were roaming > > around. > > Suddenly Jimmy came in to tell me that Billy and Debbie were screwing in my > > Old > > Man's bed. Goddamn! > > > > I went through the house and sure enough they were not only > > screwing, they were screwing like hell judging by the noise they were > > making. I > > didn't know what to do. I was too embarrassed to interrupt them, but I sure > > as > > hell didn't want them even in the Old Man's room, much less getting it on in > > there. > > > > > > I backed out of the room and went back to the sitting room where me and the > > other guys were talking about how > we couldn't believe Billy was banging Debbie > > in the Old Man's room. Some of the guys began speculating what would happen > > if > > the Old Man suddenly showed up, a thought which disturbed me mightily. > > > > Eventually Billy showed up in the sitting room, still drunk > > and doped up. à> > "What the hell were you screwing her in the Old Man's > > room for, man? What the hell is wrong with you?" I asked. > > > > Billy didn't give a damn. "Aww, fuck it man. We needed > > a place to fuck, your Old Man's got a nice bed. What the hell's wrong with > > you?" > > > > I shook my head. After Debbie came into the sitting room > > again, I went to the Old Man's room and tried to make up the bed. I > > discovered > > his bath towel under his bed. Evidently it had been used by the loving > > couple for > > cleanup purposes. I was even more chagrined and picking the towel up > > gingerly > > by one > corner, threw it in the dirty laundry hamper. I carefully attempted to > > return the Old Man's room to it normal state before turning off the light > > and > > going back to the front of the house. > > > > Billy and Debbie were already gone, and eventually everyone > > else left as well. I was alone in the house. Usually I slept in what was > > technically my sister's room that had a nice full sized bed in it, just off > > the > > sitting room. But for some reason, I slept in what was technically mine and > > brother's room that had twin beds. Sometime in the night brother returned > > and > > slept in sister's room. > > > > The next thing I knew, it was morning and the Old Man was > > leaning over me screaming "What in the hell is goin' on!? What the hell > > did you people do?" > > > > Now the Old Man had no clue that I had anyone over the night > > before, except that we did leave the wine > bottles around, and a certain amount > > of food leavings like empty tater chip bags and so on. I groggily struggled > > up > > and said "What do you mean?" > > > > "Don't give me that crap, goddamn it! You know exactly > > what I'm talking about!" At that moment I really didn't. > > > > "No I don't. What are you raising hell about?" > > > > The Old Man stood in the middle of the room and jerked his > > right hand toward his bed room. "Come here and I'll show you!" > > > > He was livid. When he got his mad his face turned red and > > the veins and tendons stood out in his neck and that is exactly the way he > > looked at that moment. I followed him into his bedroom and the hair stood > > up on > > the back of my neck. I was truly freaked! The Old Man had a big queen sized > > bed > > with a nice carved wooden head board and foot board. It was the bedroom suit > > that he and momma had for years > before they got divorced. > > > > The wood carved footboard was leaning against the vanity > > dresser and the end of the mattress and box springs were slap on the floor. > > They > > were still attached to the headboard so the mattress was sitting at a forty > > five degree angle from floor to headboard. Evidently the Old Man had come > > back > > early after staying out all night and slipped into bed only to have the damn > > thing collapse under him, at least the bottom part of the bed collapsed. > > > > The Old Man pointed at the broken bed. "That's what I'm > > talking about! That! What in the hell happened here!?" > > > > I knew exactly what had happened. Debbie and Billy's sex > > relations had been so vigorous it knocked the footboard loose from the rest > > of > > the bed frame, almost completely loose, but not quite, requiring only the > > Old > > Man to flop down under the covers to knock it > all the way loose. > > > > I couldn't admit that Billy was the culprit because then the > > Old Man might go through the house looking for dope and had he looked > > carefully > > enough, he would surely have found some. The Old Man knew also that I was > > inept > > with the ladies, so I couldnââ¬â¢t assume responsibility for the > > incident, so I > > lied and claimed I had no idea how his bed got that way. > > > > He accused me of lying, which I was, then asked me who all > > had been in the house last night. I told him George, Jimmy, brother and > > brother's girlfriend. He didn't know Jeff and I figured he would be > > suspicious > > of a stranger. When he heard "brother and girlfriend" his eyes > > narrowed. He knew I had no women, and immediately jumped to the conclusion > > that > > brother was the culprit. > > > > "Stay here," he commanded and he stalked out of > > his room to accost brother. A > just awakened brother came into the room with > > eyes wide as dinner plates when he saw the sexual carnage and later I found > > out > > he instantly surmised that Billy and his gal were responsible. He also > > thought > > it was immensely funny and couldn't help snickering right in front of the > > Old > > Man which incensed him even further. > > > > I was off the hook and soon left the room with an immense > > feeling of relief as Old Man and brother engaged in a duel of accusation and > > denial. The more the Old Man accused him and his girlfriend of screwing in > > and > > tearing up his bed, the more brother got to laughing about it, which in the > > Old > > Man's mind was proof he had indeed been responsible. He really didn't give > > brother punishment except to make him help prop up and repair the bed with a > > liberal dose of cussing and threats as to what would happen if he ever used > > the > > Old Man's bed > again. > > > > The Old Man died about ten years later, but from that day > > till the day he died he believed brother had broken the bed. I was able to > > use > > that belief to get out of trouble or at least take some of the heat off me > > when > > the Old Man would brow beat me for screwing something up. I could look > > around > > at brother and say "At least I never broke anybody's bed." > > > > The Old Man would cut his eyes over at brother and say > > "Yeah, and we know who broke that bed, too don't we?" > > > > Brother would ALWAYS laugh and snicker as he denied > > responsibility for the act which reinforced the Old Man's belief, thus > > justice > > for the table whacking incident for which I had been unjustly accused was > > served. > > > > Under normal circumstances brother would have been all too > > happy to squeal on me and get me in all kinds of trouble. Billy was the > saving > > factor. Brother was under the same onus to avoid Billy and if he told on me, > > having already admitted to being in the house with everyone else, he would > > have > > been painted with the same drug tainted brush, which brother wanted to > > avoid at > > all costs. So while he wouldn't take the blame he had to keep quiet about > > who really > > did the deed. > > > > Karma visited another kind of justice upon some of the > > players in the bed breaking event. I found out about three weeks later from > > George > > that the night Debbie and Billy violated my Old Man's bed, she also gave > > him a > > dose of the Old Joe. Which is poetic and ironic since my Old Man's name was > > Joe > > Jackson. > > > > > > I swear to God this is true. Well, it may not have been the Old Joe, > > which is a euphemism for syphilis, but she did give him the clap that night. > > >
