My Bratty Brother, The Rock Star

I believe I’ve mentioned my bratty brother Dave to you.  Life was good until he came along.  It was just me and my parents for five happy years and then BOOM.  The intruder.

Look at him laying there all smirky.  You just know he’s strategizing how to knock me off my throne or pest me in some way.

He really was a brat when we were kids.  He was an annoying pest.  He talked your doggone ear off.  He had a ton of girl admirers  drooling along behind him everywhere he went.  My mom won’t admit to this, but I think he was always her favorite.  No, really.  I know it’s hard to believe with perfect old me leading the way, but there you go.

As an adult, I really do like him.  But when we were kids?

BRAT.

The funny thing about my bratty brother Dave is that he was decidedly unmusical.  The rest of us were major music geeks.   Dave was surrounded by a family of choir directors, Barbershop quartet-ers, bell choir members, a flutist/violinist/trumpeter/tubaist (if that’s the word)/pianists/etc.  My extended family made up about 75% of our church choir.  But Dave was not in the choir, not in the band, and not doing anything musical, just folding his arms in a pouty stance and whining NO WAY JOSE.

In his late teens he taught himself to play the guitar.  And then he started to sing, and then he added in the harmonica.  At first he played little gigs like a business women’s luncheon and birthday parties, and I thought, “Well, that’s nice.  A little too late, but good for him.”

But he’s played for almost 20 years now, and besides playing acoustic guitar gigs he started a band awhile back called the Palm City Ramblers.  People pay actual money to hear him in real, valid, desirable venues!  They are great.  He is excellent.  And I really am so proud of him when I see him play.  His talent astounds me.

Yesterday, he and his PCR drummer, DJ, played at a local restaurant at noontime, so we were able to go and take the kids.  They’ve heard him before, but we were right up front, and they were mesmerized. 

It was a little loud for Jack.

The lovely Jamae was there of course.

Ben, who started taking drum lessons last week, was especially interested.  Afterwards he went up to talk to Dave and DJ, who was kind enough to give Ben drumstick grip hints.  Ben was thrilled.

He’s a fun uncle, a responsible adult, a good husband, and a rock star now.  But he’ll always be my bratty Davy Baby Chicken and Gravy to me.

Just a little snippet.