January 23, 2023
Greetings from his biggest fan,
My brother Doug is a regular person. I suppose that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but I won’t say in which direction. While this may not be a glowing endorsement, I am mentioning it at this point so that later on you won’t jump to any assumptions about him.
First, let me say that it is really hard to decapitate a gopher.
My brother is famously known for being mischievous. At a recent dinner my sister was prompted to use a compound curse word in the sentence where she expressed her response to his mischief. (My sister is a wonderful, graceful person and would never use such language unless provoked.) I will also admit here that the sentence mentioned may have been also aimed at me.
Since he lives thousands of miles from me, I am not aware of all his misbehavior, but chief among them is playing pranks on his friend Prak, which has featured, among others, rattlesnakes, mannequins and Christmas trees. (Strangely, Prak’s revenge seems to be anonymously sending state-themed snow globes to Douglas.)
At various points in our history, my brother has surprised me or others, by showing up in places he was not expected to be. Sometimes he recruits me in these shenanigans, when I am not the target. It might be his most endearing trait. Or his most hateful one, depending on the condition of your heart and your sense of humor.
A few months ago Douglas invented a new game, or at least gave his behavior a label.
Doug: “Do you know how some people will say something or ask something, just so they can plant a way to turn the conversation so it’s about them? A kind of segue? Is there a word for that?”
Me: “Well, we all call it a Dougue.” (Appropriately pronounced ‘Doug-way’)
Doug: “That reminds me, have you noticed how people are always talking about me?”
And so every conversation after that is this strange game of how to focus the conversation on Douglas. I even find myself taking his side. It’s like a chess game between Laurel and Hardy. Or checkers, between Robin Williams and Malcom Gladwell.
Despite this seemingly frivolous behavior, at heart he is a determined person, evidenced by his career, the mountains he has climbed, his devotion to his family, his steady maintenance of his snow globe collection. And of course, the ongoing battle with the varmints that surround his house.
Douglas has hunted these interlopers for years, with varying degrees of success, a term we use to avoid saying the word ‘failure’. He has a pellet rifle with which he has startled a number of squirrels, and perhaps a few neighbors who immediately added ‘sniper’ to the list of banned activities in the homeowner’s association rules. There are other nemesis examples including coyotes, black widow spiders, and a handyman named Jesus.
He showed me an elaborate trap he concocted to protect his fruit tree from rats. It looked as if he had put a safety net under the shrub to catch tiny trapeze artists. In the net were dozens of mousetraps, most of which were sprung, but would have been intimidating, I’m sure, if a rat saw them as he lounged in the ‘hammock’ gnawing on an orange.
I was visiting Douglas recently and we were just getting back from annoying my sister, when he suddenly froze in the driveway.
“Did you see that?” he asked, pointing at a tiny hole in his yard. I pretended I didn’t, not wanting to fall into another Dougue trap. Then he grabbed a nearby shovel, (who keeps a shovel nearby?) and began slowly creeping up on the hole. I thought surely he would give up after a moment when the gopher didn’t reappear, but his demeaner changed to that of Jason Bourne. Or Elon Musk.
Then I remembered him telling me a story about when he stalked a gopher for an hour, intent on beheading the little pest. (This story was prompted when I asked him what time it was.) It seemed like an exaggeration, but watching my brother go Zen with this shovel, moving so slowly I thought he was buffering, that I realized two things: my brother was a lunatic.
My brother is one of my favorite people. Anytime we talk I laugh so hard I have often dislocated a rib, or forgotten why I called him. He is fun to be with, has an amazing life story, and is a generous person. Once, during what we refer to as ‘The Pixley Incident’, he bought ice cream for a neighborhood of kids, which probably changed their week for the better. And instigated an Amber alert.
Like most of my favorite people, Douglas is also a lunatic. We both know that if he ever gets lucky enough to hit this gopher with a shovel, there will be a thousand lined up to replace him. It’s like a dark version of the story about that kid throwing starfish back in the sea.
The truth is, as the years go by, I have learned to admire his mischief. He plays with people not to embarrass them or shock them, but to add fun to their day. Which is what he has done for me countless times. We all need someone in our lives who will invite you to climb a mountain or get a tattoo or attempt to murder a gopher. You know that person, because inevitably when you are together one of you will say “Remember that time…” And if that person is my brother, he will say “That reminds me, did I tell you about my sprained ankle?”
Hope this finds you creating mischief,
David
Copyright © 2023 David Smith
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