Hygiene and the Psychotic Hot Mess

At three hundred and some-odd pounds I couldn't blame Pinky for not wanting to take a bath; he was too big for the bathtub and he didn't want to touch his feet the moldy mushroom stuff we were growing at the bottom of our shower. Besides that, the bathroom door to the shower on the second floor didn't close all the way and there was a small opening that anyone could peer into - if they decided to invade his privacy. Pinky wasn't about to let anyone see him naked - in all of his glory and was determined not to take a shower. The older boys had already tortured him mercilessly with horrible name-calling about his weight and wasn't about to give the Wolf Pack one more thing that they could make fun of him about. His simple hygiene regime was to douse himself in cheap Pick and Save cologne to overpower his odoriferous mass. I was at least glad to have some help and tried my 13-year-old best to be kind to Pinky.


For me, hygiene became a psychotic game of epic proportions. I quit taking baths since the Alligator incident i.e. the Reptile Dysfunction , and as a 13-year-old boy desperately waiting for puberty to set in, I was deathly afraid of being caught naked in the shower by my callous older brothers. Even greater than the fear of being spied on by a member of the wily Wolf Pack was the fear that they would try to humiliate me by dragging me outside naked... or tying me to a tree or shoving me back into that Hamper naked and intentionally leaving under a random car to be discovered by a neighbor.   NO WAY!

I wouldn't put it past any of them and was desperately terrified. I had to strategically pick my moments, when no one was home and the times I thought it was safe to use the shower in the same bathroom that had the broken door.

I don't exactly know why my brothers felt that the baby brother had to be ridiculed, made fun of...or tormented to no end? I do believe the dark, spiritual matter of the universe (i.e the Ouija Board and the Paranormal Ooze) had something to do with it. I think that same invisible substance was like a pandemic plague that was the cause of hate and racism and bullying of any kind. Though, I might like to say things like "it was us who opened the portal to the underworld with our seances" this darkness had already existed and was everywhere!

I liked everything about my family, the loudness, the fun, the craziness - all of it.. it was the dysfunction that made us so special with which we derived our identity as much as we did from our Viking heritage. My dad was funny and my Mom even dressed up like Phyllis Diller and did a comedy routine at Saint Marks every year.

As I said before, my house being exactly in the middle of our block on Harding Avenue was the perfect metaphor for our family being the center of all the hippie craziness that existed in the universe- this part I liked! I like the fun and laughter. I had a bunch of great stories that not many other people on the planet could even begin to relate to... like, letting monkeys out of the zoo.. illegal trailer rides... high-speed police chases... the veloci-rooster... electrocutions... Milk Wars... alligator wrestling... rattlesnake escapes... Albino hikes... Ouija board and secret room discovery... and our UFO Madness where we nearly burned down the Lennon Sister's house at the corner!














I even had some Dahlin Pride about the MEXICAN TOMATO PLANTS that gave us celebrity renown in Venice.

The only thing I didn't like, was being made to feel like I was an outsider. I really don't think there was some evil conspiracy to make me feel like I was an expendable object at their disposal to be played with like a cheap child's toy.

It's just that all of my brothers were older and as they continued to evolved more and more into hippies - their world was a world in which I didn't fit. There was no coherent plan put into place to torture me or to make me feel like I didn't belong, it is just that at 13 - I didn't belong to their hippie, refer madness, draft card burning world yet. I was an outsider and at this point - the perpetual underdog.



One thing that I learned from these feelings of  being singled out and excluded was that everyone liked to be treated with some measure of kindness. I did. I didn't want to be punched with fist of fury but touched instead with tenderness and kindness...an occasional hug would be nice and some edifying words of encouragement -  welcomed.

Love!

I guess?

I never heard the word, but knew this lofty and evasive concept had to be true somewhere out there in the universe.

Even though I was a goof ball at school, I tried especially hard to treat the underdogs kindly (the kids who were easy targets for the bullies). I felt deep down inside my psychotic hot mess - that it was my duty to stick up for them - even at personal risk.


Being the perpetual underdog, I had a real soft spot for the those who were being treated poorly or unjust. Peter Parker's uncle told him that, "with great power comes great responsibility" and I knew that with my heightened justice sensors and fighting for "the least of these" could get me into trouble and often did (like the time I tried to protect Bill Gates from the Naked Zombies) and Harry from Terry's evil Prank).

Though I felt like a loner in a big family, I did not feel alone! I did not wallow in self-pity or in misery because of either my "retardation" (my brother's called it) -  or because I had this secret knowing that I was being prepared for a very special destiny. Somewhere deep inside I had this intrinsic knowing that I would find the meaning of love someday and that everything I was going through now was a part of the process in shaping me for that day!

There was no need to feel sorry for me - I figured that if evil could exist than so must the corresponding antithesis of perfect good!

I had a dream of a bright future!  In the meantime Wolf Pack do your worst - little do you know you are preparing me for an "extraordinary destiny!" Shushhhhhhh...this will be our secret!

Next time putting up the Christmas lights!