Maybe some remember Muhammad Ali and the Thrilla in Manila but this was just a wee bit lower scale than that since Doc and I are almost exactly, as in hours, one year apart. For eldest brothers, that meant we fought constantly. That's been a mystery over the years as too Why Are Things This Way.
My ol' Dad got fed-up with the endless squabbling and decided the way to fix this once and for all was to stage the Thrilla on the Front Lawn. He got two sets of boxing gloves for generic equalizers but they didn't do much to equalize my height advantage which at that point in our young lives was significant. Maybe we were twelve to fourteen for this beloved familial vignette.
The idea of a once-and-for-all punch-out has some surface logic as in why hell, Martha, let them blow off a li'l steam, huh. That should do it up right.
The problem with the surface logic is the only thing to come from blowing off steam is more steam.
Even though I had an obvious advantage and Doc was getting whooped, my ol' Dad did not / would not stop the fight. We had to Learn a Lesson.
So, ol' Dad, just what the fuck Traumatizing for Life Lesson was that??
There's one thing to know in trying to Whoop the Doc: he won't stop. He's like the Black Knight in Monty Python. You can chop off his arms and legs but he will tell you that didn't hurt and he will pull himself toward you with his head so he can bite you. Unless you're willin' to stab him in the heart, don't wave your hands at him.
The combat continued for some interminable period and I really don't know what ended it but I'm damn sure it wasn't because Doc yielded on whatever it was. He doesn't give up, it's just not in him.
No doubt sibs remember how he would say, "You have got to WIN!"
WIN had emphasis like it was winning the Indy 500, nailing Marilyn Monroe, and getting your fat sweepstakes money all at the same time.
Winning is a peach of a lesson but that's the only one I remember and for any context: win on the track, in school, in any damn thing. The reason for the curiosity is I have never understood what created the cutthroat competition in the family. It has to have something to do with the Teachings but that isn't clear either.
The lack of clarity is because I wrote a letter to the family after writing WEBSTER and it said something to the effect of being happy to have had the opportunity, blah blah. He read it and asked if I thought it was self-congratulatory, something like that. I wasn't convinced but saw the possibility so I never sent it. That reaction is suggesting something which avoids something potentially competitive in a vague kind of way.
The competitiveness in everyone in the family has likely served everyone as well as it has me but there's a deficit in terms of any kind of team playing as I'm just not interested and never have been. I've never seen much interest for that in anyone else in the family and it's even been remarkable families have held together for decades. It's all the more remarkable in that we don't hold together with each other worth a damn.
If you take it as a criticism then understand it goes as much to me as any sib as I really don't understand why we didn't learn this. It's hardly something which keeps me awake but perhaps in a sense it does sometimes.
My ol' Dad got fed-up with the endless squabbling and decided the way to fix this once and for all was to stage the Thrilla on the Front Lawn. He got two sets of boxing gloves for generic equalizers but they didn't do much to equalize my height advantage which at that point in our young lives was significant. Maybe we were twelve to fourteen for this beloved familial vignette.
The idea of a once-and-for-all punch-out has some surface logic as in why hell, Martha, let them blow off a li'l steam, huh. That should do it up right.
The problem with the surface logic is the only thing to come from blowing off steam is more steam.
Even though I had an obvious advantage and Doc was getting whooped, my ol' Dad did not / would not stop the fight. We had to Learn a Lesson.
So, ol' Dad, just what the fuck Traumatizing for Life Lesson was that??
There's one thing to know in trying to Whoop the Doc: he won't stop. He's like the Black Knight in Monty Python. You can chop off his arms and legs but he will tell you that didn't hurt and he will pull himself toward you with his head so he can bite you. Unless you're willin' to stab him in the heart, don't wave your hands at him.
The combat continued for some interminable period and I really don't know what ended it but I'm damn sure it wasn't because Doc yielded on whatever it was. He doesn't give up, it's just not in him.
No doubt sibs remember how he would say, "You have got to WIN!"
WIN had emphasis like it was winning the Indy 500, nailing Marilyn Monroe, and getting your fat sweepstakes money all at the same time.
Winning is a peach of a lesson but that's the only one I remember and for any context: win on the track, in school, in any damn thing. The reason for the curiosity is I have never understood what created the cutthroat competition in the family. It has to have something to do with the Teachings but that isn't clear either.
The lack of clarity is because I wrote a letter to the family after writing WEBSTER and it said something to the effect of being happy to have had the opportunity, blah blah. He read it and asked if I thought it was self-congratulatory, something like that. I wasn't convinced but saw the possibility so I never sent it. That reaction is suggesting something which avoids something potentially competitive in a vague kind of way.
The competitiveness in everyone in the family has likely served everyone as well as it has me but there's a deficit in terms of any kind of team playing as I'm just not interested and never have been. I've never seen much interest for that in anyone else in the family and it's even been remarkable families have held together for decades. It's all the more remarkable in that we don't hold together with each other worth a damn.
If you take it as a criticism then understand it goes as much to me as any sib as I really don't understand why we didn't learn this. It's hardly something which keeps me awake but perhaps in a sense it does sometimes.
4 comments:
What you described was commonplace in my elementary school. Getting in a fight didn't get you detention or suspended or any other punishment. It got you dragged (typically by the ear) to the gym where you were instructed to "finish it." (Bare fisted. Our school didn't have boxing gloves.) Of course, by then, the adrenaline had run its course, and it almost always resulted in a handshake to end the fight. On rare occasions it didn't, but the fight that ensued was typically enough to end the conflict, at least for that school year.
That's one sorry way to settle a problem as that situation was fifty years ago and it still fookin' drills me. Stop the fight, ol' Dad, this is bullshit!
You have seen enough of my daily spew to know I have no interest in generational assassination so sometimes he screwed up and in my view this was one of those times.
Sometimes??? As a man of science he was unquestioned but
Life isn't always scientific (larfs)
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