Feefee: Scrawny, precious, boney all at once... Mark as a little boy. Sharp, somewhat sensitive and a smart-ass, fun, focused, a pain in my...well, you know. From the army men, electric football sets, Strat-O-Matic. A 3M-type table game based on statistics and involved the toss of dice. Dream teams were assembled, the field was prepared, competition was underway, the dice knocked against themselves with that thick clicking sound as they tumbled on the table after you held the dice up to your chest, mixing-them up in your hands, then the dice roll. That was one play. God Bless anybody who dared even approach the kitchen table if you were in the middle of Strat-O-Matic. Ooo... scared of you. Those boney knuckles of yours on my person in the form of a closed angry fist was not a walk in the park, come to think of it. The hours you spent in the front yard on Walter Street digging out tunnels, roads, building bridges, until on more than one occasion, good chunks of yard caved-in several inches. I thought it was the coolest thing when you got a football outfit from Ramona and Rudy. The helmet and all were Greenbay Packers colors and even tho' I was happy to receive a pair of furry slippers, I would loved to have gotten a football uniform.
The time you and I were at odds, fighting like two little pit bulls, we couldn't even look at each other, beefing, bickering, fussing about God knows what stupid no thing as we sit around the supper table... Mom on the phone and as I recall we looked at the bowl of creamed-corn at the same time, it was a matter of who would reach for the bowl first, daring the other to do something in the name of sibling discord... You proceeded to grab the bowl and in a very matter of fact manner, pour the bowl of creamed-corn right on top of my head. As far as I was concerned you may as well have fired off a round of ammunition at me, point blank... with a bazooka. I was dumb founded even tho I saw it coming a mile away. I looked at mom as the yellow, creamy corn dripped off my shell-shocked face. I waited for mom to drop the phone in horror, appauled with what she had just witnessed, the unthinkable, the gall of Mark... She actully took it quite well, too well for my taste. Mark faced no disciplinary measures in fact, got off squeaky clean while I washed creamed-corn off my furious and humiliated face.
