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I recently came across Mama’s Losing It. If you haven’t been to her site yet, you definitely should make the time. I was inspired so I decided to join in on her weekly “Writer’s Workshop” prompt. It’s pretty much world famous after all.
For my inaugural post I chose “Share a story about a sibling…” I’ve told this story before on another blog, but it’s so good I don’t mind telling it again.
B is for Brother and BBQ Ribs
I have a younger brother named Gavin. He’s 9 years my junior, but I can’t quite call him my ‘little’ brother due to the fact that he towers over me at 6’2″ and was once a football linebacker with the nickname ‘Moose’. There are many things people instantly know about Gavin like how often he smiles, how much he likes to laugh and how much he enjoys food. Other people’s food.
On one day, many years ago, my mother and I returned to her house after a day out shopping, lunching or something to that effect. My brother had a key and had let himself in to do laundry, if I remember correctly. We chatted about our day as we moved into the kitchen and set the bags down on the table. There on the counter was a Styrofoam take-home container full of nothing but rib bones and a few dabs of remaining bar-b-que sauce. My brother decided to saunter in from the laundry room at the same moment. Gavin has a bad habit of not bothering to ask before he eats something that isn’t his. He doesn’t go around stealing things, of course — but if he goes to my house or our parents’ house he will easily raid the refrigerator without feeling guilty even for a second.
My mother set down her purse and turned to him, “Son, that container was full when I left. Did you eat all of those ribs?”
“Yep,” he grinned like a Cheshire cat when he answered, “I did. You know better than to leave stuff like that where I can find it.”
“But they were half nibbled on,” My mom stated.
“So…” my brother shrugged, “I was hungry.”
Then my mother started laughing.
It was her typical quiet chuckle at first, but then it turned into a roaring laughter that made her gasp for air and lean on the counter for support. My brother, assuming she was laughing about his appetite, joined in. Being the older sibling, and having spent far more time with my mother, I knew something was up; she doesn’t laugh that hard for no reason. Once she caught her breath she started to tell my brother the story behind those ribs.
“Last night your father and I went with your grandparents to Sonny’s (local BBQ joint). I had steak, your father had chicken and your grandparents had pork,” she paused, hoping it would sink in. It didn’t, so she continued, “After we were finished with dinner, and as we were walking to the front to pay the check, your grandmother stopped and suggested we get some scraps for the dog.”
My brother stopped laughing.
My mother smirked and continued, “We asked the kitchen staff if they had anything we could take home. They gave us the rib leftovers from all the plates they’d picked up during the day…and then pulled a few more from the trash cans.”
The kitchen fell silent. My mother was waiting. I was waiting. My brother took a deep breath and said,
“Well…they were good for garbage ribs.”
My brother will be swearing into the National Guard in one week. I’m so proud of him; he’ll be 3rd generation enlisted for our family. But, I’ll also miss him so much. He’s always been my friend and my partner in crime. I can’t wait to see him all proud and handsome in his uniform…..so I can hand him a Styrofoam container of ribs.
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