In the Clan he is known as 'the Poor Bastard' simply because he is stuck 330 miles away in a town with my mother the Grand Bastardette.
He was born when I was 10 years old. Our mom suffered severe post partum depression. She spent a lot of time in bed crying. I spent ALL my time adoring my precious baby brother. He was a tiny thing, born two months premature. I bathed, fed, diapered and did my best to take him for my own.
When he was older my sister and I used to put makeup on him. He was a white headed, eyebrowless kid. We would get out the eyebrow pencil, paint him on some eyebrows. Then we'd add a little mustache and goatee on for grins. He loved it and so did we.
He was only 7 years old when I bailed out of the mad house. But I would still go get him and he spent a lot of time at my house. Things were bad at home and he caught the butt of it.
My brother grew up and we grew apart.
The last five days on the ocean with him were like the days when we were kids. We laughed, we played and got to know each other again. Here are some things I learned about my brother.
- The Bastard blood is running smoothly through his veins
- He is smart and witty
- He has a low tolerance for bull-shit…the reason he and I are single.
- He's a quick study…see ^
- He has friends (that were on our cruise) that love and adore him and consider him their family.
- That I have missed out on so much not being closer
I love you Ronnie. If I had to trade five years of my life for every day we spent together this week……it would be well worth it.