In my silly, silly selfishness (see how I did that, alliterating stuff?) I have neglected to discuss in depth my brother, Dominic. He’s also known affectionately as The Illustrated Man because of his many tattoos (and because, based on his behavior when we were kids, I’m convinced that he wasn’t really born, but that novelist Ray Bradbury invented him like so many other weird sci-fi characters…)
Remember that I’ve mentioned how Gina was born a small Italian girl? Pretty much the same thing for Dominic.
I kid! I’m a kidder!
Actually, Dominic has had a wonderfully colorful life as a young italian man. Let me explain. No, there is no time; let me sum up:
Born about 3 years after me, has never forgiven me for being shorter than him. Was cute as a button during elementary school. Not sure what happened to that. Has a scar on his forehead from where I hit him with a belt buckle (we were, as I recall, playing some version of “Hey, let’s hit each other with stuff”, I wasn’t just RANDOMLY hitting him, it was mutual, the hitting was!) That was last month. I kid! I’m a kidder!
After elementary school came a bunch of years where stuff happened – I’m a little foggy on the details – he wound up joining the Air Force and serving in the Gulf War. After his successful stint in the armed forces, he became an electrician, met the beautiful Alesha, and became married. Somewhere along the way his taste in music became simply atrocious, and now the only bands he’ll listen to are the ones with ‘death’ or ‘smack’ or ‘pain’ in their names (except once in a while he’ll put on an Olivia Newton John album when he thinks no one is watching. “I wanna get PHYSICAAAAAAL, let’s get into physical!! Lemme hear your body talk!!”
Nowadays he can frequently be found playing Xbox Live while listening to “Painful DeathSmack” at extremely high decibels.
Whenever possible, I’ll be playing Xbox Live with him. He’ll probably be winning.