Friday Night
In about 30 minutes, I will be headed to a very low key, but promising to be lots of fun work Christmas party. It is so low key; I am wearing jeans and a bright red shirt. The music is blaring; I am sipping a Jack Daniels and Diet Coke, and I am wondering what the poor people are doing right now. I suppose they are getting ready to go to a low-key work Christmas party . . .
So anyway, as I was getting ready for the party, I was reminded of Christmas parties past. When money flowed more easily, the hospital usually rented a hotel ballroom and hired a band. We enjoyed open bars, lots of food, and the usual gossip. In those days, Barbara and I had to hire a babysitter to be with John. I mentioned that memory to Barbara and we did our usual marveling about how freaking fast the time has gone by.
Then as I free-associated in my brain, I recalled an incident that occurred when I was 5 or 6 years old. This is a vivid memory of which I can still see in my mind like a rerun. If I was 5 or 6, then my brother was 11 or 12. We were standing in our dining room. We had a babysitter for some reason and it was at night. It seems like she just got there. My brother was trying to impress her. Even then, I could tell when someone was full of it. What a sight it was, my brother, my sister, and myself, standing around in our pajamas. I was the tag along and out of the loop, so I usually wandered around oblivious to any conversation. It was without that conversation to hold my attention, I would think about other things to do. For some reason, I got the bright idea to pull George's pants down. So I did. I am laughing right now, just remembering the scene. He was just talking away when I came up from behind and pulled his pajamas down around his ankles. There was about a second with him just standing there in his underwear while it sunk into his mind that his little brother just exposed him to the same babysitter he had been trying to impress.
George quickly pulled his britches back up and shrugged off the incident. The babysitter took it in stride as well. I can't remember being beaten to death by my brother or even getting in trouble with my parents when they returned. They probably wrote it off as me being young and not knowing any better, hehehe.
It’s just one funny memory from more than 40 years ago.
Here's to a good weekend and next week at this time, Santa will be on his way.
Until the next time
John Strain