He's Not Heavy, He's My Brother
Wednesday, Dec. 15, 2004, 11:39 a.m.

I had every intention of writing last Friday but found myself having to mightily gird myself for the upcoming weekend. See, Matt and I went to visit my brother Tom (and my nieces and nephew, oh and my sister-in-law, too) so I was anticipating a God-filled weekend... with the very real possibility of The Laying On of Hands in order to exorcise me of my many and sundried demons. I think I've mentioned before that my brother and Jay-ZUS are Kin but me, not so much. In fact, earlier in the week, I gave my brother a little "Come To Jesus," so to speak, except that it was more of a Come to Satan, when I told him, all newsflash-like, "Yeah, I think Jesus was prolly The Man? But I don't believe in him so much. In fact, I'm not so sure I even believe in God." *Forty seconds of dead silence* whereby my brother lost all feeling in his left side, but when he recovered well enough from his apoplectic fit he answered, "Well, Ohhhhhkay. But I'd really like you to come to my church this weekend." So, I spent the greater part of Friday reading Beatles lyrics backwards and applying temporary pentagram tattoos on my both sides of my neck and forehead. For vun's sake.

If you are not so religiously-inclined, you mightn't think that it's a Big Deal that I would say this to my brother. But Boy spends a solid amount of time praying for my immortal soul in between thinking I'm The Greatest Thing Since The Coming of Our Lord so it was a teensy bit of a smack in the face to him. He, and my parents, have (rightly) thought I'm not kosher with The Organized Religion, but never doubted if I was down with J.C. and his Pops. And as I've already said, I don't know exactly what I believe yet, but I thought it high time to Get Real and the impending weekend seemed better than not to break it down. And, by God, it all worked out for the best.

We had a GREAT time with La Famiglia, picking out Christmas trees, playing games, going to kid plays and out to dinner, and even even going to their church. I know, right? Though, to be honest, the place frightened me a little in it's massivity and everyone glad-handing you and saying things like, "So when did YOU come to know The Lord?" Meep. But the Christmas "service" they put on? It was unfarginbelievable. It was like a goddamn Broadway show. Seriously. Like all fake smoke and solid-gold dancers and angelic singers and 2000-people-choirs and wheeeeeeeeeee! Cirque du Soleil resampled with The Lion King meets The Lord. Much to the chagrin of everyone in the "Faith Family," I kept calling it a Show and not a Service. I didn't get the memo on the lingo aspect of this community so made a fool of myself and others. Surprise, surprise. But lemme say, iffin I was a susceptible sort, I'm telling you that I would be seriously lovin' up on The Lord. I just enjoyed the whole shimmy for the entertainment value, but I can see how Believers would get all they need out of this place. Side note: from a purely outsiders view, the sociology of groups totally wows me. The unity these people get through their shared experience, and by sharing specific language, song, and purpose soooo brings them together. And watching the show I couldn't help but think how appealing to the masses through multi-sensory stimulation is so amazingly powerful. Going to one of these jagunda churches is like a scientific experiment and experiencing the crazy Groupthink/Groupspeak firsthand in that environment is like reading it straight out of a textbook. Point being: funny how people work, you know? Hennyway, despite all this Almighty influence my brother has over him, after much discussion, he agreed to let me come to my own decisions about the world without him Jimmy Swaggarting me all the livelong day. So it all worked out nicely. And I was proud of him to show such restraint.

Anyway, we left Monday morning and dropped my brother off at the airport where he was flying to Virginia and planning on VisionQuesting himself in the Shenandoah Mountains. Totally fasting and meditating for four days by himself in the fur-reezing cold. Reason #58721 why God and me are still working out our dealio together. Because I believe I can come to puh-lenty of revelations over a box of donuts on my cozy couch and therefore have no need for the Denying Myself Retreat, thank you please. But if it works for him, have at it, Bro. Actually, Matt and I were giving him a hard time about The Retreat--for fun's sake, because breaking my brother's balls is one of my favorite pastimes. After little jabs over the weekend, we go to drop him off. Matt shakes Tom's hand and says *straight face*, "Go where you mind leads you. *dramatic pause* Except when it tells you to wipe your own excrement all over your face." Back in the car and buh-bye! But seriously, despite me painting my brother out to be some sort of religious freak, he's actually a hi-larious guy and I ADORE spending time with him when he's just his normal clowny self, which he doesn't even realize is so immensely amusing-- otherwise known as The Comedy That Is Tomedy. I'm not laughing with him, I'm laughing at him. For truth, though, this ended up being a weekend that brought us closer togther when I originally thought it would be all *strugglestruggle* I love it when I'm wrong. And he's my brother, after all. The same guy that used to force a belt around my neck, lead me around the house and scream, "What's your name?!" My response, of course, for my brother's amusement was supposed to be "Kunte Kinte!" at which time he'd take great pleasure in smacking me with another belt while yelling, "NO! It's Toby! What's your name?!" Someone that shows that kind of serious dedication and attention towards his little sister can't be all bad, no?