My Fearless Bro-by-law
Ben Rayman
November 24, 2009
The first time I met the eldest, Roody, his omniscient talents intrigued me. Although, he has spent most of his bread-and-butter career in the communication industry, New Jersey Bell, I do believe he missed his calling as an entertainer. Whether it be tinkling the ivories, slinging drinks, creating his voluminous gourmet cuisine, ´The Roody Burger´ on the outdoor grille, or serving not only as the tour guide, but also the chauffeur when we all piled into his ´New York City limo´ - the bottom line is that I never left his domain with wishful recollections.
For those who do not know what a ´New York City limo´ is, I will invent the visual by depicting in terms of era and geography. It is one of those classic luxury liners that come out of the 1950s. You can sit behind the wheel and almost need binoculars to gauge the distance between the car in front of you! Come to think of it, I believe I can recall seeing Roody´s car in a re-run of an A-Team episode. I thought the vehicle was out of place, but then I later understood a German tank wasn´t at their disposable. I often wondered if those Freedom Fighters were Roody´s idols because of their successful abilities to improvise; moreover, his addictive loyalty to the tube when Hannibal and his merry global wanderers are beckoned to serve those in need. Nevertheless, it all came clear to me later, "if you are going into the city, if it looks like a south end of a horse going north, stay away," fervently emphasized Roody.
But sooner than I anticipated, we embarked upon the royal tour. As Roody´s right arm encircled my neck, he hurled, "It is time to introduce this Buckeye to the city that never sleeps!" And then he politely invited my mate, "it is time to board." Finally, he appealed to his opposite, "Get the lead out---we are going slumming!"
From the Jersey side, we crossed over the George Washington Bridge. As we motored further inward on Bronx soil, my sister-by-law tossed out, in her signature style of recall tone, "Look Patty! Over there is the zoo. Remember when Mommy and Daddy use to take us there?" Rudy quipped, "Yeah Pat, that is where I met Barb!" Suddenly, I saw a flash of an arm and then Roody let out a chuckling groan. I must have been sporting a mischievous grin, as I turned to my wife, she said in her authoritarian way, "Don´t you start up!" Laughter then filled the airway.
As we traveled the expressway, he made a speedy downward swoop over the Whitestone Bridge into the Flushing area. {I learned later Roody was giving the sisters a memory lane jaunt. As young girls, they would visit their mother´s mother, and I knew Pat´s heart held no childhood joy of her grandmother.} I broke the emotional mental silence in a questioning way. I inquired if the airport was near? Successfully, it triggered Roody to head southeast to JFK International. Eventually, we ended up driving past Coney Island. That got all the non-New Yorkers talking about their joyful memoirs. Then the host driver made a northern upshot all the way into Manhattan.
Oddly, I felt like we were just taking a leisurely Sunday drive in the country. No delays, lots of sightseeing from Roody´s back stage auditorium. However that changed, while touring through Chinatown. We got hung up in the city bus runs. Instead of Roody staying to his left, as the roadway widen, the ´limo´ was vertical with the bus. Traffic was anthill deep, and it became an inch-by-inch feat for Roody to work the ´limo´ into the main lane. "Ben, you´re in New York City now! Watch his guy try to shove his way in front of us," voiced Roody as he chomped and rolled on his smokeless cigar. Well, I did! But Fearless Roody kept nudging the front passenger fender of the ´hogmobile´ to the rear of the bus. His goal was not to let his left competitor squeeze a millimeter from the fathom needed to pass first. "Sorry Joe, I´m not going to give," muttered our ship´s host. Fortunately, only the wing of Roody´s New York City ´titanic´ was bruised as it intercoursed its way through both sides of its opponents.
With this being my first exposure to life in the fastest lane; consequently, it became knowledgeable to me much later on why you would not stop to engage in a self-investigation of a New York City summit-of-fenders. Those being: First, you would have to get out of your car, and that would become an almost superhuman feat, such as, having to snake oneself through the window. Second, it would provoke an avalanche of auto trumpets blaring non-stop. Of course, they wouldn´t be tooting their approval as if a wedding procession was passing. Somehow, I feel fortune of not being able to read lips as heads protrude from their car windows. Third, attempt to explain how your rendezvous occurred in a calmly tone, standing next to a busload of passengers that has to be at their destination yesterday. And of all, to a driver who is fluent in a universal language that you know yourself, but it does not have a country of its own.
Meanwhile, as we proceeded onward from the aftermath of the earlier thrill, Barbara decided the new objective was to find a place to park near Fifth Avenue. "It´s time to shop-till-we-drop," the matriarch echoed with great anticipation. [Pat already prepared me that her sister inherited that gene from her mother.] She also warned me there weren´t any Bonanza Steakhouses in the city. I determined only after-the-fact, she was telling me to not to order the salad. Somehow, I must have resented her advice? Somehow, I should have seriously considered her twenty-five buck estimation as gospel because back in Ohio, I would have gotten a full course meal for less than ten. Somehow, I can only surmise my miscalculation of the cost for an egg, a tomato and green leaves tossed on a plate was at its height of stupidity during my early twenties. Nevertheless, I can easily say, it ranks right up there with that male mental blockade of not stopping, and asking for directions when lost.
With my Ohio genealogical roots firmly bound in Putnam County-Farmland USA, I have a clear-cut definition for what is considered sublime and what is ridiculous. It never dawned on me that an empty space would command the same hourly wage as a Ford Motor factory worker! Additionally, my mind wasn´t calculating the length of a New York City block, and was to be computed by football field measurements. Neither did I perceive I would have to walk at a jog pace, and view the sights panoramically.
Despite of the fact, my current marital classification was still in that honeymoon year, soon after I thought to myself; I did not have to worry about my billfold becoming airborne because I relocated it to my front pants pocket. Fortunately, with no second thoughts, I did not resist this suggestion by Pat. On the other hand, for those with an imagination, window-shopping through a certain portion of 42nd Street afforded me a known sensation. With the presumption, the euphoria I was feeling was due to my innocence; I became awestruck by the scenic artwork. My stride suddenly slowed to a turtle pace as the trio forged ahead. I kept moving my head and eyes as if I was playing Pac Man. I was dumbfounded about all that I was seeing and subliminally hearing. I just couldn´t believe this was so open to the general public.
In retrospect as I wandered aimlessly, I must have been taken for one of the natives. With my jaw almost to the ground, and that feeling you get after being turned around in circles, before you get ready to pin the donkey´s tail; I must have muted an invitation. I discovered the giver was not with whom I said I do to earlier this year. Though my gold band was not obvious which earmarked my chosen union, I must believe he was definitely nearsighted because my hippie insignia was in my straight ear. Unfortunately, the sensation was near the area where I kept my American Express checks, nevertheless he assured me via the hands-on experience, I did not leave home without them!
In those memory lane flashbacks, I am assured my evaluation of Roody´s missed career path can only be found in a quote by Robert Kirby of the Utah County Journal: "The mark of a true professional is giving more than you get." Since Mr. Kirby does not know Roody, but I must also affirm, New York City as, ´this is the place´ - a virtual potpourri of the sublime and the ridiculous. However, I have discovered it is a city blessed. The metropolis is embedded with an international cohesive richness of many cultures, embellished with the reality of the performing and visual arts with architecture that reaches to the clouds, and it is rightfully empowered as a world-class emporium for commerce. New York City truly balances the scale of indifference with one´s admiration for having it all, yet it agitates a rage of repugnance with its external human suffering. But, those opinions demand a respect because it has and does welcome all into their home, regardless if you have none.
On our way home that night, I recall turning back and seeing the city aglow from the Garden State side. The lights were like a conflagration, which made me mawkish and overrode my fears from the day´s happenings. Reasoning why was because of Roody´s courage. It was contagious. I knew I would return because I had amassed a vast collection of joyful memories.
For those who do not know what a ´New York City limo´ is, I will invent the visual by depicting in terms of era and geography. It is one of those classic luxury liners that come out of the 1950s. You can sit behind the wheel and almost need binoculars to gauge the distance between the car in front of you! Come to think of it, I believe I can recall seeing Roody´s car in a re-run of an A-Team episode. I thought the vehicle was out of place, but then I later understood a German tank wasn´t at their disposable. I often wondered if those Freedom Fighters were Roody´s idols because of their successful abilities to improvise; moreover, his addictive loyalty to the tube when Hannibal and his merry global wanderers are beckoned to serve those in need. Nevertheless, it all came clear to me later, "if you are going into the city, if it looks like a south end of a horse going north, stay away," fervently emphasized Roody.
But sooner than I anticipated, we embarked upon the royal tour. As Roody´s right arm encircled my neck, he hurled, "It is time to introduce this Buckeye to the city that never sleeps!" And then he politely invited my mate, "it is time to board." Finally, he appealed to his opposite, "Get the lead out---we are going slumming!"
From the Jersey side, we crossed over the George Washington Bridge. As we motored further inward on Bronx soil, my sister-by-law tossed out, in her signature style of recall tone, "Look Patty! Over there is the zoo. Remember when Mommy and Daddy use to take us there?" Rudy quipped, "Yeah Pat, that is where I met Barb!" Suddenly, I saw a flash of an arm and then Roody let out a chuckling groan. I must have been sporting a mischievous grin, as I turned to my wife, she said in her authoritarian way, "Don´t you start up!" Laughter then filled the airway.
As we traveled the expressway, he made a speedy downward swoop over the Whitestone Bridge into the Flushing area. {I learned later Roody was giving the sisters a memory lane jaunt. As young girls, they would visit their mother´s mother, and I knew Pat´s heart held no childhood joy of her grandmother.} I broke the emotional mental silence in a questioning way. I inquired if the airport was near? Successfully, it triggered Roody to head southeast to JFK International. Eventually, we ended up driving past Coney Island. That got all the non-New Yorkers talking about their joyful memoirs. Then the host driver made a northern upshot all the way into Manhattan.
Oddly, I felt like we were just taking a leisurely Sunday drive in the country. No delays, lots of sightseeing from Roody´s back stage auditorium. However that changed, while touring through Chinatown. We got hung up in the city bus runs. Instead of Roody staying to his left, as the roadway widen, the ´limo´ was vertical with the bus. Traffic was anthill deep, and it became an inch-by-inch feat for Roody to work the ´limo´ into the main lane. "Ben, you´re in New York City now! Watch his guy try to shove his way in front of us," voiced Roody as he chomped and rolled on his smokeless cigar. Well, I did! But Fearless Roody kept nudging the front passenger fender of the ´hogmobile´ to the rear of the bus. His goal was not to let his left competitor squeeze a millimeter from the fathom needed to pass first. "Sorry Joe, I´m not going to give," muttered our ship´s host. Fortunately, only the wing of Roody´s New York City ´titanic´ was bruised as it intercoursed its way through both sides of its opponents.
With this being my first exposure to life in the fastest lane; consequently, it became knowledgeable to me much later on why you would not stop to engage in a self-investigation of a New York City summit-of-fenders. Those being: First, you would have to get out of your car, and that would become an almost superhuman feat, such as, having to snake oneself through the window. Second, it would provoke an avalanche of auto trumpets blaring non-stop. Of course, they wouldn´t be tooting their approval as if a wedding procession was passing. Somehow, I feel fortune of not being able to read lips as heads protrude from their car windows. Third, attempt to explain how your rendezvous occurred in a calmly tone, standing next to a busload of passengers that has to be at their destination yesterday. And of all, to a driver who is fluent in a universal language that you know yourself, but it does not have a country of its own.
Meanwhile, as we proceeded onward from the aftermath of the earlier thrill, Barbara decided the new objective was to find a place to park near Fifth Avenue. "It´s time to shop-till-we-drop," the matriarch echoed with great anticipation. [Pat already prepared me that her sister inherited that gene from her mother.] She also warned me there weren´t any Bonanza Steakhouses in the city. I determined only after-the-fact, she was telling me to not to order the salad. Somehow, I must have resented her advice? Somehow, I should have seriously considered her twenty-five buck estimation as gospel because back in Ohio, I would have gotten a full course meal for less than ten. Somehow, I can only surmise my miscalculation of the cost for an egg, a tomato and green leaves tossed on a plate was at its height of stupidity during my early twenties. Nevertheless, I can easily say, it ranks right up there with that male mental blockade of not stopping, and asking for directions when lost.
With my Ohio genealogical roots firmly bound in Putnam County-Farmland USA, I have a clear-cut definition for what is considered sublime and what is ridiculous. It never dawned on me that an empty space would command the same hourly wage as a Ford Motor factory worker! Additionally, my mind wasn´t calculating the length of a New York City block, and was to be computed by football field measurements. Neither did I perceive I would have to walk at a jog pace, and view the sights panoramically.
Despite of the fact, my current marital classification was still in that honeymoon year, soon after I thought to myself; I did not have to worry about my billfold becoming airborne because I relocated it to my front pants pocket. Fortunately, with no second thoughts, I did not resist this suggestion by Pat. On the other hand, for those with an imagination, window-shopping through a certain portion of 42nd Street afforded me a known sensation. With the presumption, the euphoria I was feeling was due to my innocence; I became awestruck by the scenic artwork. My stride suddenly slowed to a turtle pace as the trio forged ahead. I kept moving my head and eyes as if I was playing Pac Man. I was dumbfounded about all that I was seeing and subliminally hearing. I just couldn´t believe this was so open to the general public.
In retrospect as I wandered aimlessly, I must have been taken for one of the natives. With my jaw almost to the ground, and that feeling you get after being turned around in circles, before you get ready to pin the donkey´s tail; I must have muted an invitation. I discovered the giver was not with whom I said I do to earlier this year. Though my gold band was not obvious which earmarked my chosen union, I must believe he was definitely nearsighted because my hippie insignia was in my straight ear. Unfortunately, the sensation was near the area where I kept my American Express checks, nevertheless he assured me via the hands-on experience, I did not leave home without them!
In those memory lane flashbacks, I am assured my evaluation of Roody´s missed career path can only be found in a quote by Robert Kirby of the Utah County Journal: "The mark of a true professional is giving more than you get." Since Mr. Kirby does not know Roody, but I must also affirm, New York City as, ´this is the place´ - a virtual potpourri of the sublime and the ridiculous. However, I have discovered it is a city blessed. The metropolis is embedded with an international cohesive richness of many cultures, embellished with the reality of the performing and visual arts with architecture that reaches to the clouds, and it is rightfully empowered as a world-class emporium for commerce. New York City truly balances the scale of indifference with one´s admiration for having it all, yet it agitates a rage of repugnance with its external human suffering. But, those opinions demand a respect because it has and does welcome all into their home, regardless if you have none.
On our way home that night, I recall turning back and seeing the city aglow from the Garden State side. The lights were like a conflagration, which made me mawkish and overrode my fears from the day´s happenings. Reasoning why was because of Roody´s courage. It was contagious. I knew I would return because I had amassed a vast collection of joyful memories.
Print
Email
