... my brother, that needs to be told and shared with people who will be amused. When I was there visiting earlier this week, his wife and I spent a good bit of time just talking, about his working years, the person he is, and how co-workers related to him over time. I've known he has what I would call a 'dry wit', in that you had to know him, and spend time around him to know if he was joking or possibly being a smart ass. What might be referred to as a sense of humor that is slightly off center. Even as a teenager, his way of looking at the world was a bit off kilter. He did love puns, and was really sharp-witted in conversation, making 'funnies' that many never actually caught on to, but if you did, you would crack up.
The wife, even now, says she is not always sure how to respond to things that he says: serious or being funny? Depends on the circumstances, I suppose. He said some things when I was there that were hilarious, but easily overlooked if you were not paying attention. So even as his health declines, that sense of humor is still there, slipping in witticism and catching you off guard. He struggles with finding the right words, and I think that is part of the illness, as his mental abilities are slowly being consumed, with this evil in his head that affects his memory. But still remarkably sharp.
He was telling me a story, when I was sitting talking to him, as his mind wandered. About his grandson, who is about two and a half. One hundred percent little boy: busy, busy, busy and always getting into something. Loves anything with wheels: car, trucks, earth-movers, tracked vehicles, and especially ones that make a lot of noise, he can duplicate as he rolls them across the floor or table.
The story he told was something that sounds like a dream, or more likely just occurring inside his head as he struggles with this debilitating illness. He reported that Sonny, the grandson, was wearing overalls - and that the last time he counted there were 131 Sonnys. I distinctly recall that he used the word 'replicating', and that it was difficult to keep up with them all, as the numbers were continually increasing. But he figured out the way to keep them all under control, by putting up pegs in the wall, and hanging them up in rows, by the straps on their overalls.
When his wife heard the story, about the little people being stored on the wall to keep them from wandering off, she was very worried. Concerned that the little ones would be hurt hanging there from the pegs. But he assured her that they were perfectly content, just hanging there, cheerfully talking to each other, wiggling. They were flapping around, waiting for their turn to be taken down and given the opportunity to run around freely.
The really interesting part is that they were all hanging on the walls in the basement of Sonny's uncle. My brother had been doing some work in the unfinished 'bonus' area of his son's house back in the fall. Running electricity, hanging light fixtures, putting up two-by-fours, and installing sheet-rock, adding molding, installing doors, painting. Building some shelving to make the new rooms useful. Trying to help get the basement finished so they could use the space for storage.
I presume remembering all the work he had done in his son's house to help them get it finished, combined with his love of that little guy and devotion to family came together into this hilarious tale.
He told me years ago that he planned to spend the rest of his life in Virginia, because his sons thought of it as home, and he so wanted to be there to have the pleasure of being a grandparent. The parents of Sonny also have a daughter, who is in Kindergarten, and crazy about her Pop and Mimi.
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