They say you can never go Home...

Soldiers of Sparta were allowed to return home after lost battles, only if carried dead upon their shields. I'm convinced this is a more practical and time-saving way to go about it.

Wednesday, October 06, 2004

A Round-About story concerning John Kerry.

Recently, my dear Mother has been gently prodding me to talk to my brother.

The subject of this talk did not, in fact, have anything to do with his seeming inability to manage money (a tragic design flaw that my parents, time and again, feel obligated to shield him from) as evidenced by a recent Bill of Collection left for public inspection on the kitchen table.

It did not have anything to do with his newly-found predilection for poker and/or other forms of gambling played until the wee hours of the morning, either.

It had to do with the fact that my little brother accepted an invitation to see John Kerry in Tampa, extended to him by a (somewhat) recent ex-priest.

To say that I, and my siblings, have been raised as Catholic, is an understatement equal in magnitude of saying that Bhopal, India experienced a few inconveniences during the Union Carbide gas leak of 1984. I don't wish to exaggerate (but seeing as I have already done so, and quite cavalierly), I expect that there is enough religious paraphernalia in this house, stashed away in drawers or otherwise prominently hung on the wall, to exert its own (albeit infinitesimal) gravitational force.

This ex-priest has somehow taken a vague liking to my younger brother (who, let it be known, is in all respects legally, a grown adult). He leaves him excessively large tips when he frequents his Restaurant, always in the company of a few other young men. He seems like an overly nice person, if not somewhat lonely.

This has set off alarm bells for Mom, and while I can start to understand her concerns about his motives, I find it more interesting to cogitate on what it is that is so frightening to her. If, indeed, this ex-priest is hitting on my brother, can she really believe that human sexuality is so fluid so as to change my brother's preferences through overtipping and a ticket to see a presidential candidate? Or could he be kidnapped and forced to become a brainwashed member of the "alternative" Catholic parish down the street?

I suppose anything is possible--even the eventuality where monkeys fly, pell-mell, out of my rear-end. But I highly, highly doubt it.

In all honesty, I ultimately forgot to sit down and have a talk with my ADULT younger brother about the items listed on my mom's Agenda--the dangers of date-rape drugs, the concept that people may want more from one than simply one's own sparkling personality, and of course, the danger of wanton Democratic Party-ness.

However, due to my miscarriage of Older Brother Responsibility, he went. To see John Kerry. And apparently, he met him, shook his hand, and got his picture taken with him by whatever photographic team that Senator Kerry takes with him these days. He says that Senator Kerry is "really cool" and that he wishes that he had more time to talk with him.

More time to talk with him.

I am astounded. And when I ask what they've talked about, he's rather vague, but I think it had something to do with involuntary military service. (That, or possibly legalised gambling.)

My historically politically-apathetic little bro is charged with patriotic duty for the first time.

I'm not sure what will work up my parents more; the knowledge that he attended, or the fact that my brother's vote is pretty much decided for at this point.