When I was a little girl--about nine or ten--I dragged around one of those autograph books for a couple months. Y'know, not to collect celebrity scrawls, but to have friends and family pen a little remembrance. I have it stashed somewhere in the debris of crap collecting in the cabinets in my bar.
Anyway, in between all the Best Friends 4-Evers and the U R 2 Sweets, is a brief missive (can't remember what it says) to "Sis" and signed "Pat" (your brother).
Except we weren't related. Not at the time. Pat was my brother's best friend.
Well, a couple years later, his mother married my dad, and we indeed became sister and brother. Weird, huh? How did he see the writing on the wall?
So, today he arrives in town (well, in COUNTRY) after an eight year absence. As his daughter Shanan puts it: Duck and cover. Here comes a hurricane.
(To tell you the truth, I'm taking extra vitamins for the duration.)
'Cuz if there's one thing Pat's not, it's normal. Sorry bro' but it's true. Married twice, no three times, um wait...four...he's lived in between Peru and Chile (with time off for a year-long stay in Ghana) for the past couple of decades. Something about gold mines. At least that's the official story.
Catching up should be interesting.
Oh, and if you'd like to see a younger version of him, rent Damn Yankees. He's one of the four little boys singing "You Gotta Have Heart" at the talent show. Don't remember which position he's standing in--the only hint I can give you is that he's NOT the one who is John-Boy from The Waltons.
Oh, and here's a picture of Pat I posted on the 4th of July this year.
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