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 |    My random thoughts and reactions to my everyday life. The voices like a forum. |
| PROMPT May 27th Write about your first _______. (You fill in the blank. Ex: first car, first job, first crush, first week at college, etc) Ah, firsts! They are incomparable. They are indelible. They may never be duplicated. I shall write about the kid that officially made me an aunt for the first time, Jimmy. He originated with the first of my siblings to become a parent, my sister Laurie. She decided he'd be a James Milo and right from the start I questioned the 'Milo.' I quizzed her as to its origin and she assured me it had always been a family name on the father's side. Milo? Jim's paternal stock were born and bred for countless generations in a rural landlocked area in northern Ontario. Few had ever ventured further than their home province with their run-of-the-mill average names. Milo? Had a foreign sailor voyaged about their farmland sweeping the star struck womenfolk off their feet and leaving unrequited swooning in his wake? But James Milo he became. Ah, Jimmy kept his mother on her toes. He believed his father who insisted that ants were 'clean bugs' and he collected them along with worms, spiders, and anything that caught his eye. Laurie was what her in-laws referred to as a 'city girl' and she never liked insects even if they were outside. As a child she would scream, "Bee" at anything that whirred by her. Jimmy also picked up a few choice cuss words from his father and he knew how to press his mother's buttons. He thought he knew just how far to push her, but he made a calculated mistake. At one of his birthday parties, Jimmy ran around shouting out his favourite swear word de jour enjoying the shock factor. Several times, Laurie cautioned him and then down right threatened him, but he ignored her. He thought he'd heard it all until my sister called his bluff. Laughing with his friends, Jimmy failed to notice his mom exit the house and march towards him. I suppose her shadow alerted him and he turned to see a green bar of soap floating before him. His first instinct was to run, but Laurie followed no matter where he zigged, or zagged. Cornering the wide-eyed boy, Laurie thrust that bar of Irish Spring in between his teeth. In front of his party guests Jimmy stood for all to see. He attempted to wiggle out of her grasp, but he had met his match. Only a scant minute passed, but to that boy with the tearing eyes it must have seemed like an eternity. When his parent asked if he'd learned his lesson, Jimmy nodded. With the soap removed, Jim gagged, retched and spat. He carried on for far longer a period than that torturous minute. He refused her offer of a drink. One day, my sibling noticed dark, purplish smudges under each of her son's eyes. He replied no to all the standard queries. He had not been punched. He had not fallen. No one had poked him. The dog had not jumped up on him. Jimmy claimed the 'bruises' did not hurt, so his mom shrugged them off. When those same marks took on a greenish-yellow hue, Laurie ferried her unconcerned child to a doctor's appointment. To the doctor's question re had he put anything up into his nose, Jim shook his head no. After a visit to the hospital's x-ray department and a series of nasal shots, the suspicious doctor discovered several pebbles wedged tight inside each nasal/ sinus cavity. Again, Jimmy underwent questioning. Finally, he admitted to inserting the gravel into his nose, but he claimed he'd forgotten about it. He had no idea when he'd done this and could not answer why either. At one time, Jimmy had an active imagination that caused me to laugh whenever I spoke with him. For a few years, he had an imaginary friend that went everywhere he did. For the life of me I cannot recall that invisible pal's name. Could it have been Doug? Of course, Doug became the excuse why Jim would refuse to eat certain foods. Doug didn't like it. Doug didn't have to take a bath every night. Doug's mother did not tell him what to do. For some reason, Doug was older than Jim, and in fact, Jim represented him as being an adult. If someone, anyone purchased a new snowmobile, or a vehicle, or new tools Doug's were bigger, better, and faster. When Jim's Uncle Rick got married, so did Doug. If Dad chopped down three trees, Doug cut down ten. That Doug was very competitive. Jim insists that he does not remember Doug and acts as if we invented him. I do not recall Doug saying goodbye. One fond memory of Jim involves a couple of empty toilet paper rolls. He toted this makeshift 'chain saw' everywhere pretending to cut things up and making the requisite saw noise. There were probably strangers who stared and wondered about a little boy playing with t.p. rolls. He never took notice of those unbelievers and why should he? Thanks Jimmy for permitting me to be your aunt. As my first nephew you provided so much fun. |
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