schweblog

My brother and I used to play a game.  It was never explicitly identified as such.  One of us would spontaneously decide to not talk to the other.  (This included antagonizing one another, which was really the primary form of communication between us.)

Neither of us were particularly good at the game.  We were the best of friends.  We lived in a pretty remote corner of the Estancia Valley.  There weren’t many people our age around.  At least, not within a mile or two.  I would like to think that even if there were a hundred alternatives nearby, we still would have picked each other.

So we would start the game by not responding to the other for half an hour, long enough for the other to notice.  It rarely lasted for more than an hour.  The longest episode was on a roadtrip.  I think it lasted the entire day.  Or at least from the time of our departure one morning until lunch.  It seemed like forever.

We’re getting older now and we have gone down different paths.  He does contracting work, mostly home construction, and can build something with a few tools and his bare hands from the ground up.  He could probably build an entire house if he wanted to.  I am very proud of him, although he tends to goof off too much.  Blows his paycheck on booze.  Sleeps with women that try to pierce his nipples while he’s passed out drunk.  Smokes copious amounts of cigarettes.  I mess up in similar ways, although I think I’m better about covering it up.  Or I’m just less authentic about it.

He called me on Monday to tell me happy birthday.  I haven’t called him back yet.

We’re getting better at the game.