Posts Tagged ‘1957’

Unca Rob scares himself

August 5, 2012

Today is Unca Rob’s birthday.

It’s impossible to me that Rob is not still in his 20s, smelling like patchouli and driving his dark green VW bus with the curtains on the windows.

When I was a little girl I idolized him and his hippie ways. Now I idolize him for his artistic talent and political savvy, but most of all, because he is so damned funny.

Someday I will share with you the funny he brings so quickly and easily. Today I share a time he was funny by accident.

It loses it a lot in the absence of my mother’s facial expression in the telling. She tells it well. It’s one of my favorites.

One afternoon my mom was in the house doing whatever perfect¬†little girls do when they’re in the house. She heard the back door slam.

Suddenly her little brother Robbie ran past her in a blur, grabbing a book en route to his room. He jumped onto his bed, landing in a lounging position, opened the book randomly, and appeared instantly to be immersed in the story.

My mom grew suspicious — in her smart and responsible way —¬†and scooted the curtains aside to check out the yard where Robbie had just been playing.

The lawn was on fire.