Young Mr Pilotin

At the conclusion of my previous post, I invited my readers to choose their favorite Ghettoblaster story from this nearly ending year. IT was no surprise to me that my most staunch supporter, Mario, would be the first to comment. Not only has he motivated me to continue writing, but he has been part of more then a few of my writings. He is one of the guys I wrote about in The Little Rascals. I've written about his wonderful family. I've even written indirect messages that only he would understand. Sometimes being a responsible older brother is hard and it's best not to preach so I speak in code. He was also the subject of the note that inspired this blog.

Just before the end of last year, on my Facebook page, I wrote a recap of my year. This year end recap was inspirational to me, because of the many things I had accomplished. I was also proud to have reacquainted myself with some of my oldest, and dearest friends. In that recap I described them as follows, "They’re your cookie cutter young successful bachelors. They drive nice cars, have fancy gadgets, and drink fine liquors" Having them around has really brought a lot of enjoyment to my life.

When I wrote How do you say goodbye? I was trying to cope with the fact my brother, and friend, Mario "Spooky" Pilotin was leaving the fold. Not being a phone call away seemed unnatural. Regardless of the distance, we have communicated regularly. I know that being away from home has affected him greatly. I am happy to report that he has made the best of his time in Phoenix. From the beginning it has been a new adventure for him. He drove to Arizona, and was blessed to see sights that some of us will never have the good fortune to witness. He's been to the dessert, survived sand storms, and now has the shores of Mexico as his weekend playground.

On the other side of it, I know that there as some things he can't get used to. I remember a message he sent me, where he asks to me to keep the leaves from falling off the trees, until he arrived for Thanksgiving. He wasn't going to be home in time to see the leaves to turn color. For those of us that have lived in the mid and northeast all of our lives take the little things for granted. 

Another time I receive a message about finding a Turducken. Me being a butcher, I was intrigued. Last year he went out of his way to make his mom happy, and bought an organic Turkey. This year, he wanted a turducken. It was amusing to see his mom's face when I delivered it. Even after it was cooked, she seemed not to understand what the big deal was. Since I could save him a few dollars, I took upon myself to make the ever elusive hy-bird my self. I was even invited to dine, as I always do, with his family on Thanksgiving day. The turducken turned out great, but I had other treats on my mind. From the turkey butts (tails) to the lengua (cow tongue) to the paella. Mrs Pilotin's Thanksgiving spread never disappoints.

The next day we all got together for "Friendsgiving" All the "cookie cutter" boys came over to our home. We broke bread and toasted. We played games and told jokes. Mario was home again, even if only for a while. Hope to see you soon broski, foshizo.