Brothers

Just coming to the realization that my brothers are not my brothers.
Do you understand that?
You might also work on my friends are not my friends.
This, after reading a bit of Mother Jones then going to my online bank account and seeing my money woes. Just knowing that my high school graduate, 4 years of Air Force, retired from the Long Island Railroad brother doesn’t read a Mother Jones brought me to the realization. When I see him I always greet him warmly but I don’t see him much and he is always a little different. Lately, after many years of being an extreme right wing nut (though he keeps no guns and couldn’t fight his way out of paper bag) he disclosed he liked John Edwards. He had moved to North Carolina in the 90’s and I presume this is why.
Then I have another brother who doesn’t vote. He dropped out of high school but he has always had a job whether it was a cook at mental institution where we lived in N.Y. or a cabbie in his hometown of Greenpoint or a Kirby salesman and lastly a laborer at the Veterans Hospital here in Florida. He’s a handicapped man who because of his handicap couldn’t be drafted nor could he join. He loved Elvis and convertibles. Now he plays golf, the new pool.
These are big brothers, the ones that are supposed to show you the way. I didn’t follow their way, going to community college and smoking pot. Now I follow yoga, Siddha Yoga, and they are not that way, either. My mom died, with whom I lived for the past 30 or was it 40 years and what the big brothers have done has been invite me to dinner and e-mail me. They both came to the funeral that they graciously let me pay for (with mom’s money). They don’t resent that mom left me whatever she had including her house in rural Florida but it’s just that they are strapped for cash. They’ve been strapped for cash since the 60’s when all that mess about the war happened. Oh, in 1970, in Florida, I lost my virginity. I wonder if that affected our relationship. Certainly, it would appear, marriage and my mom’s move to Florida with her husband (my father) changed some things. No more swinging rides in the convertible with the oldest, the handicapped brother and no more playing catch with that other one.
Surely, I wouldn’t care if I was still smoking dope and rockin’ and rollin’ but the friends who used to do that with me have decided to take things seriously, devote themselves to their careers and raise families. Even that might not matter to me if I could get a job and make a living.
But, it’s all the mind my Guru tells me. It’s nothing but the mind.

Advertisements
  1. No comments yet.
  1. No trackbacks yet.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: