tiki tiki timbo no sim bimbo poi poi boskey boi pon do hickey pon pon nicky no me atom poi

The title is very strange. That is because my brother and I were very strange. But then, we still are. We have a very special language that mostly only he and I know. I would venture to guess there are a lot of siblings out there that have the same thing, their own language. That language between us is something that I treasure. No one else on this planet knows it, just me and him.

My brother moved to Houston in 1977. I soon followed him after I moved to Chicago for 6 months. I thought I had found the love of my life in Chicago but he ended up cheating on me. Idiot. Anyway, I move to Houston in October of 1977 and never looked back. I moved in with my brother and his roommate "Face". Face had a really bad habit of playing David Bowie really early in the morning when So and I were trying to sleep. So and I shared a bed since there was no where else for me to sleep.

I got a job at the Galleria Plaza Hotel in the security department as a "timekeeper". What a strange name for a position, don't ya think? Anyway, I worked the evening shift, 3pm to 11pm. I was able to walk to work since our apartment was across the street from the Galleria. My vehicle was still in Kentucky so it was important to be able to get to work easily. I met a great guy there by the name of Mark. He worked in the housekeeping department. We started spending a lot of time together at work and after work. Mind you he was gay and I knew this and was perfectly fine with it since I adored gay people, still do as a matter of fact. We would get off of work, go home and get dolled up then go out dancing at all the local gay bars in Houston and have an absolute ball.

The three years I spent in Houston as a 19 yr old, single woman with the world at her hands was priceless. I would go out with Mark or Shane (another cutie friend of Mark's that was an absolute doll) but my brother would always make sure I had a $10 bill in my back pocket, just in case I needed it. I can remember giving him that $10 bill back many times but it always felt good to have it there, just in case. I was fortunate to never have to use it. You see, that was just another way that my precious brother took care of me. There are many memories I have of those times and many of them I will write about because they just have to be shared! Believe me, they are good. But I will save them for another time.