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| Recently retired from the California Department of Education, Andrew Laufer is writing a book about his life including periods as a butcher's helper, food service worker, construction laborer, animal research assistant, seasonal fire fighter, and janitor. In his youth, he hitch-hiked up and down the coast and out to Colorado numerous times providing context for hundreds of short stories. |
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My big brother Michael is six years older than I. We used to wrestle and do our best to inflict pain on each other, in a loving way of course. Since he was so much older, I stood little chance of winning any of the battles.
Our bouts usually started with a smart aleck remark or a small shove. Escalation resulted in me being overwhelmed by my brother's bulk and strength and pinned to the floor. At that point, with him sitting on top of me, he stretched and held my arms together above my head with one hand and used his other hand to slap my cheeks. When he tired of that, he used the side of his fist to punch my eyes, one after the other while I helplessly rolled my head back and forth to avoid the assault. You might think that this roughhousing made me mad, but I knew it was all in good fun and most of the time I'd laugh each time he hit me.
As we grew older, Michael lost a couple of top front teeth when fighting with some rough kids in the neighborhood. Consequently, he had two false teeth to fill in the gap. He could easily push his false teeth out of position with his tongue when he felt like being goofy. At times, when I sat on the couch or lay on the floor watching TV, he walked by and stopped. When I looked up at him, he stared at me, pushed his teeth out to make a goofy face, and slowly approached blocking any path of escape.
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I'd start to squirm as he slowly morphed into a monster-like character preparing to pounce on me. He loomed up as high as he could. Then he straightened his arms downward and formed his hands into claws as he stared at me with a leer, his two teeth hanging loosely on his lips. In this monster form, he advanced toward me, slowly, one pronounced step at a time to prolong my anxiety. Sometimes he'd make a growling sound too.
Ignoring my pleas to stop, he eventually reached out with cat-like swiftness and latched onto my arm with vice-like strength. Within a moment, I'd find myself on the floor getting my cheeks slapped and my eyes pounded, all the while laughing, much to his pleasure.
Family trust and brotherly love, I guess.
When I was younger, I couldn't wait for paybacks, but now, the memory of it is just funny. Even now, in our sixties, he'll get into his silly monster pose, and we crack up laughing. Some things never change.
~ Andrew Laufer |
