Captain Domesticado

It has been a while since my last sojourn into the world on the other side of a keyboard. I have been “busy” as one is wont to say. I, for some reason, have found it necessary to abandon my cockatiel the last several weekends and some week days to meander about and act as if I were some lame doppelganger for Jack Kerouac. (? I hope I spelled that correctly.) I’ve not wandered exceptionally far, and have no excuse for my absence from the keyboard other then sloth. As mentioned before, I possess two instruments with which to produce prose…one being portable.

I remember coming back from one my weekend outings and revealing to my traveling companion the feeling of emptiness that I had over not writing. He, a blessed young man who you will meet soon, told me that it seemed pretty dumb to complain given the suitcase full of technology I carry with me everywhere I go. So here it is…

I am sitting on the back porch to my sister’s house drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette. I watch as my boyfriend-in-law (I’ve not had much luck with brother-in-laws so I choose to avoid that term) gets ready to mow the lawn. I realize that I will be run away from my comfortable perch in order to escape the noise. My sister’s back porch currently serves as my favorite place in the entire world. It is decorated with a plethora of odd pieces of metal art, produced by said boyfriend-in-law. Among many things he is an exceptionally talented artist and really should be doing it for a living, at least in my opinion.

He is an authentic character. He leads the pack in a sub-culture within our society which I call “South Austin Weird Guys.” They live in Austin Texas which has always been known for its eclectic demeanor. My belief is that Austin is where the hippies went when they seemingly disappeared, or turned into CPA’s or real estate salespeople.

Not that this gentlemen is in any way, shape, or form a flower child. Yes, he drives a Volkswagen and is environmentally conscious. However, his VW is painted in a black and gray camouflage and has a particular “assault vehicle” look to it. He grew up an army brat and spent several years in the defense of our country. He is the nicest man I know. He is the best thing that ever happened to our family. I will tell you that I love him very much, in spite of the fact that he is uncomfortable with male to male affection. That is not to say he is anti-anything, it is just that he was raised in a masculine German family. He works for a local industry which employs blind people who manufacture and distribute products to the government, and any one else that needs soap dispensers in their public bathroom. He is much loved at his job. He is much loved by my sister who, as her younger brother, can sometimes be a handful.

He is walking around the yard picking up twigs and rocks to ensure the lawn mower will operate properly. He has just turned down an invitation to lunch from me in order to mow the lawn. He always turns down opportunities to engage in what I would term “fun” opportunities in favor of working outside in his yard or in his garage/shop. It is not out of any level of anti socialism. It is just that his world is wide and rich, and just as big as the land he lives on. In the midst of all this, he answers the phone and drops everything to go fix a neighbors lawn mower. Not really a neighbor…he had to get in his borrowed car to get to this “Neighbors” house. Oh, did I not include the fact that he will do anything for anybody. Just because they need the help.

He is a fun loving man, and has many friends who come and hang with him in his mechanical sanctum. He likes guns and knives and beer. When I drove up yesterday, he had just finished replacing the engine in his VW Command Car. He love his car and when the engine went out, it was a major catastrophe in the family. Myself included. Anyway, it appeared he had finished and I asked him, jokingly, if we were going to test drive it. He said no, and remained rather cryptic for a few minutes as to what the problem was. Finally I asked him what it would take to get it going, thinking that I can maybe run him to the parts store or some other sort of mechanical support function. His answer turned out to be quite eloquent – “What would it take? For me to be more sober.”

I laughed at this, and went on about walking into the hose to greet my sister. I think of him often and have never foundd it distressing to do so. I came to a realization sitting on the porch this morning. He is one of my heroes. It is a good thing for people to have heroes…I recommend it to anyone. Given my like for him and his love of all things about the house, and my propensity to exist in the realm of the imaginary, I believe I must christen him “Captain Domesticado.” Truly a noble and valued warrior in the complex world of this writer. God Save Captain Domesticado.