Handy Man

Those of you who know me, are aware that I have a younger brother. He and I are very close and share the same twisted sense of humor. We both find things like talking to schizophrenics and watching old people fight to be quite entertaining. He and I are four years apart and he is the “golden child”. He has been making me laugh since he could talk and one of the things that he excels at is “voices”. He went through a period when Damon Wayons was his favorite comedian. He mimicked every character that man did and the one that could always bring me to my knees was “Handy Man”. If you don’t remember, Handy Man was a mentally challenged super hero – that’s as politically correct as I can get.

It never failed, every time my brother would get in trouble he would go “into Handy Man” and that was it. My mother would be laughing so hard she couldn’t even remember what she was mad about. He used to make crank calls to members of our family in various different “voices” with complete characters built around them. He would call my mother at work and mess with her for 10 minutes and hang up. She would come home at night telling us about strange phone calls she’d received and we would roll because she had no clue. He could ALWAYS get her.

I, on the other hand, knew him too well. I always knew when it was him and he could never get over on me. I took pride in the fact that I was, somehow, better than my mother because I could always detect his antics before I got sucked in. We used to make fun of how gullible she was, thank God we were there to jade her and turn her into a distrusting, paranoid, functioning member of society!

One evening I was at home with my daughter, two dogs, their two puppies and my cat (because I aspire to be a zoo keeper) when the phone rang. It was Handy Man. I was trying to do laundry, prepare dinner, keeping the dogs from killing the cat and the cat from killing the kid. I had not had a good day at work and I really wasn’t in the mood. But, because it’s my brother, I have to let him at least THINK he’s got me going before I burst his bubble. This time it was elaborate – Handy Man was working for the Fire Department selling tickets to the annual Fireman’s Ball that benefits burn victims. Now, for those who don’t know, my father is a fireman, so this was a perfect “character” for my brother to play. I listened to his spill about how my donation would assist in the treatment of burn victims, he appreciates me speaking to him, he’ll speak slowly so I can understand him better, blah, blah, blah. I’d finally let him go on for about two minutes, giggling and just waiting for my opportunity to pull the plug. I finally said, “Would you quit acting like a retard”. Silence………then, “I’m sorry ma’am?” I said, “I know it’s you and I really don’t have time for the retard routine today”. By this time I had walked into the kitchen where the caller ID box was. Imagine my panic when I saw the number and description “Firefighters Assoc” flash across that little LCD screen. Again I heard, “I’m sorry ma’am.” I immediately tried to recover and said, “oh no, I’m sorry. I thought you were my brother.” He responded, “You have a brother that is mentally handicapped?” and I said, “I sure do. How much are those tickets?” Needless to say, I bought 2 and donated them to the burn victims.

To this day, I never answer the phone without checking caller ID. So, if your number is blocked, unknown, from some area code I’ve never heard of, or in any way associated with the Firefighters Assoc., don’t expect me to pick it up. I never know how my brother will strike again and I’m not nearly as confident in my ability to detect his BS anymore. I guess we do turn into our mothers at some point after all.