That away team, always full of surprises.
I distinctly remember demanding that Finbar define exactly my relationship to the first born of his new family.
'I suppose you'd say he's your half brother.'
Suppose? I see. I suppose you might have mentioned that your wife was pregnant but I know, I know, details, right? I'm not sure if he harboured some fairytale-based antagonism towards the use of the 'step' nomenclature, but from then on I counted my rapidly expanding second set of siblings in point fives. At the time of writing and considering my full-on sister as a full-on one, I have 1.5 brothers and the same amount of sisters. Feel free to do your own 'math'.
I saw these Canada ensconced step-sibsters, these demi-dudes, a whole lot more when I was a teenager as I would visit every summer and for lengthy periods. And I assume that it is for this reason that they're all pretty much frozen in time in my head at the ages of ten and down.
I'm getting to where I'm going, honest. Hang on in there. I feel the big news approaching.
The nine year old is engaged. And not a Gimme and Common Law type engagement which feels a little like the busy signal at the Chinese on a Friday night, but a wedding next summer, picking out venues, actually going to get married engagement. So raise your glasses. Congratulations all round.
You'll be wanting a name here. In the interests of privacy protection I'm picking Oviler out of the ether. Oviler, yes, not Oliver. Oviler is not really nine, but he is young to be getting hitched considering he doesn't live in a trailer and his fiancée isn't up the Damien. I can hear the misgivings being privately being misgived left, right and centre. But you won't be hearing them from Gimme.
Unique among the Minute boys, Oviler is a man who knows what he wants and has a clear plan for its getting. It has always been thus and always have myself and my other brothers looked upon him with a certain awe for this talent which eludes us so completely. And when it comes to affairs of the heart I believe that Oviler is the living, breathing wife of Ben Small of the Coney Island Smalls. He knows, I reckon. He knows the way you know about a good melon.
And so again I implore you, raise your fucking glasses.
Monday, May 5, 2008
Monday, May 5, 2008