And then there was the Playboy story

First of all, here’s the update on Kelly and his whiskey.

Mom felt guilty and called to tell him his moonshine was really vinegar.

Oh, the disappointment.

“So, why is it that when I tell someone a secret in this family, nobody keeps it a secret? But, you can all keep secrets from me,” he said.

His daughters pulled up my blogs to show just how many people were in on the secret about his fake Virginia moonshine.

“So everybody that reads your blog knows too? Great. What are you trying to do? Write a book about me on your blog? I can’t believe you broadcasted my moonshine story to the world! I’m surprised you haven’t told the Playboy story yet.”

Oh, the Playboy story!

Thanks for reminding me…

After this Playboy blog, I’ll stop writing about him for a while.

Maybe.

But, this Playboy one is just so good…

Actually, it’s really more about my mother than my brother. But, he does have a starring role.

Call it family history.

When Kelly was at that awkward pre-teen age of about 11, my mom took his nicely folded laundry up to his bedroom to put it away in his chest of drawers.

As she organized his stacks of clean clothing, she felt something slick at the bottom of the drawer.  She rummaged around to see what was beneath his clothes, and she pulled out a glossy Playboy magazine.

Her response was epic, unforgettable, and perfectly in keeping with her fiery personality.

She took the magazine downstairs, opened it up, and tore out some of the naked lady pictures, including the centerfold.  She found some construction paper and cut out little circles of paper and taped them over the most revealing body parts.

Later, she called us all to the dinner table.

“Supper’s ready,” she innocently called.

We all trailed in from various parts of the house and sat down for dinner.

I always sat next to Kelly.

I noticed his face quickly turn bright red, nearly purple.

I looked around to see what made him look so shamefaced.

Then, I saw my Dad’s eyes darting from the wall to Kelly, across the table to Mom, and back at the wall.

That’s when I noticed the pictures of the naked women plastered all over the kitchen wall above the dinner table.

We were speechless, motionless.

Mom let Kelly (and the rest of the family) sweat and squirm for a few seconds, and then calmly said, “Kelly, I found those lovely pictures in a magazine in your dresser drawers today when I was putting away your laundry.  I thought that if you enjoy them so much that maybe you’d like to share them with the family so that we can all enjoy them.”

Kelly stared straight ahead of him, not focusing on anything, but maybe the clock above the stove that suddenly seemed to have stopped ticking.

Then, in a firm voice, Mom said, “From now on, nothing comes into this house that can’t be posted on the walls for the world to see.  If you are embarrassed about it and have to hide it in your drawers, it doesn’t belong in this house.”

In his humiliation, Kelly managed to say, “Can we take them down now?”

“Be my guest,” Mom said, “and put them in the garbage where they belong.”

Trying to move past the uncomfortable embarrassment of the moment, Dad casually said, “So, ah, pass the casserole, why don’t you?”

When I told Kelly I planned to blog about it, he said, “Hey, I never looked at another one the rest of my life! That cured me good. And, porn never became one of my vices. I never wasted another three bucks on anything like that ever again!”

Well, at least there’s that…

Some family memories just can’t be forgotten.