Tag Archives: brothers

Deed

Deed: (n) document executed under, especially of real estate.

Strange bugaboos crawl out of the natural events of our lives and haunt us for all time. They are difficult to describe and don’t seem to have any particular reason for existence.

But because our journey took us through a side street filled with trash cans and rats, we have this memory of sleaze.

It’s that way for me with the word “deed.”

Many years ago, my brothers discovered a deed to a property that my father had once owned. We thought he had sold it, but now it appeared that the papers were never actually signed.

Or maybe they were, and we just didn’t know where to find them.

It became the subject of conversation for months and months to come, as each of my siblings imagined how much money was possibly floating in the air from this deed, that could come and land on their lives and produce everlasting joy.

They were surprised at how unimpressed and uninvolved I was.

So sure was I that this mission was folly that I signed over my portion of the mystical magical amount, letting them know to leave me alone and to never use the word “deed” in my presence again.

I will honestly tell you that I do not know the end of this story. Eventually, each one of my “Grimm brothers” gave up the cause and never brought it up again, I assume out of fear of looking as if each of them had failed.

So my lesson in this essay is simple:

If you’re waiting for a deed to bring you happiness, you might find it more powerful to see if you can take your own deeds to do so.

Corroding

Corroding: (v) to eat or wear away gradually as if by gnawing, especially by chemical action.

At one time I adopted (or maybe adapted) three extra sons into my household.

It was a inspiring feeling—the sensation of helping these kids out, but also the pride that came from doing something out of the box, which funny wisdom on words that begin with a C
other people “oohed and ahhed” over because of its nobility. (That’s who we are–a mixture of possibility mingled with ego.)

Well, back to my story.

I wanted to make sure the young fellows were comfortable, so in a fit of generosity, I decided to buy them little candy bars which I could hand out after meals as desserts. The candy wasn’t that expensive, and I knew they would look forward to having one after enduring the latest green bean surprise.

Here was the problem: every time I went into my pantry, there were fewer and fewer candy bars. It was not due to the fact that much time had passed, and many meals had corroded my supply.

No, I was being pilfered.

There was someone in the home who was taking more than his fair share of what I bought out of tender loving care.

It created two problems. First, there were fewer candy bars than there should be, and unless I purchased more, we would run out before the end of the week. Secondly, if I didn’t get to the bottom of who was copping the treats, I would buy more and inadvertently feed the addiction to both chocolate and deceit.

So even though I felt foolish, I realized that the greatest corrosion in the situation was the breaking of trust and allowing one or more of the young men to believe that taking what was not offered is acceptable, and not stealing.

It was painful.

I think the third degree went on to the fourth and fifth degree and the inquisition took at least four hours.

Finally, one of the young men broke down, in a reaction that landed somewhere between tearful and enraged over being trapped and admitted that he was the one who snatched the sweets. It was ugly. It is always ugly when something of value begins to corrode and it becomes necessary to trace where the attack is coming from.

But because the young man admitted he was the one, I was able to continue to buy candy bars, and trust that the other two fellows would watch him like a hawk—to protect their prize.Donate Button

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Bill

Bill: (n) a common English name, short for William

Dictionary B

  • I have a brother
  • His name might be Bill.
  • We grew up in the same house.

There all similarities cease.

Our parents were doing their business of child-rearing in a season when discipline and alienation of children from the common conversation was considered prudent.

So accidentally they pitted all five of us sons against each other, competing for their affection and even the last pork chop on the platter.

So a couple of decades ago I tried to establish an adult relationship with my brother based on the affinity we might possess as partakers of a common mother.

It went poorly.

There was an immediate jockeying for position based upon age, education, experience and just general superiority.

I tried not to participate in the tug of war, but still found myself doing a bit of tugging.

Over the years, the situation has evolved to its present status of an occasional phone call which, if brief, normally remains civil. If it extends too long, old wounds are exposed and the common infections associated with brotherly familiarity surface with a vengeance.

So to a certain extent, Bill is my bill.

He is a price I pay for growing up in a family which was not close enough to remain loyal, but still has enough genetics to needfully and purposefully interact.

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Beloved

Beloved: (adj) dearly loved.

Dictionary B

I didn’t like the script so I’ve written my own play.

The script provided for me by the American culture says I should really love those people who love me, who are attached to me, or who were spawned from my seed. The rest of the world is supposed to be viewed with various contortions of suspicion.

I found the premise for this theatrical presentation of “Life on Earth” to be boring, short-sighted, and lacking in plot twists to grant a thrill.

Somewhere along the line, mankind, humankind, or whatever-kind needs to become beloved to me.

This does not mean that everyone I meet will curry my favor, but it does promote the idea that if I start off viewing all women as my sisters, all men as my brothers and all children as my immediate kin, I have a much better chance of being valuable to the world than if I close off membership in my circle to the tiny ring I call friends.

Then, if I do run across those who are not very brotherly, sisterly or childlike, I can give myself a great gift: avoid them.

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