Ode to Brother Snort

I’ve mentioned my family a few times here on the blog; I’ve talked mainly about Mother and Father Snort, but I think I may have mentioned Brother Snort just once or twice in passing. Today is Brother Snort’s 32nd birthday so, even though he doesn’t read my blog (or know I have one?), I wanted to dedicate today’s post to him.

 

Brother Snort does in fact have a real name; his name is Anthony, but he has always gone by Tony. Footlong is named after my brother. When I got pregnant I told John that since the baby would have his last name I thought it fair that I could choose a family name from my side as well. He agreed. I named my first-born after my brother; Footlong’s first name is Anthony, but he goes by his middle name of Garrett. Footlong knows that he is named after Uncle Tony. A year or so ago I asked him, “Honey, do you know that you’re named after Uncle Tony?” He got all huffy and said, “Yes, Mom, you’ve told me that a million times.” “Well,” I asked, “what’s your whole name?” He put his hands on his hips and said, “Garrett Uncle Tony Jackson!”

 

Brother Snort made his entrance into this world when I was nearly 3. I have vague memories of him as a baby. I remember going to the hospital to see him. I remember holding him. I remember when he learned to talk he would call me “Sissy” or “Car-Car” because he couldn’t say Carmen. He would also shout “Juicy!” when he wanted more apple juice. He was (and still is) a handsome little guy with big brown eyes and a head full of blond curly hair. Seriously. He was the only white kid with an afro in our small town. It was adorable, but he got sick of old ladies coming up to him constantly and running their fingers through his hair. It was funny.

 

I have many fun memories of Brother Snort from our childhood:  we played Uno, watched lots of movies over and over again (The Karate Kid, Back to the Future, and Police Academy seem to have gotten the most wear and tear), and would play make believe games where we were cats. We roller skated and rode bikes together, and one Christmas we both got Pogo Balls so we hopped up and down the sidewalk together. There were lots of times, however, where we claimed to hate each other’s guts. We would hit and scream and sometimes go into one another’s room and throw shit on the floor.

 

As we got older we got to be better friends. He was a freshman in high school when I was a senior. During homecoming week there was a different theme of dress for each day of the week, like Spirit Day, 60s Day, Backwards Day, etc. One of the days that week was where you were supposed to dress as the opposite gender. I wore one of my dad’s shirts and some khaki pants (and maybe a tie), and Tony had worn one of my sparkly flag corps outfits and had me do his makeup. I even tied a bow in his hair. It was hysterical, and a photo of him was captured and published in the yearbook. Toward the end of my senior year Father Snort was given a great promotion, but it required relocating to the suburbs of Houston, TX. As I was headed off to college the move really didn’t affect me, but Tony had no choice. His 15th birthday was the day before they moved. Dad and Mom were busy packing and tying up loose ends and did nothing other than tell him Happy Birthday. After I got off of work, not knowing when I would see him again, I stopped off at the store and bought a small birthday cake, some candles, and ice cream. We were all spending the night with Aunt and Uncle Snort at their huge house because all of our furniture was packed up. I yelled at Tony to come into the kitchen and told him I needed his help. He came moping in, saw the cake, and got teary eyed as I sang Happy Birthday in my very off-key style of singing. We ate cake and ice cream and just hung out. They moved, he started all over at a huge school, and after a while he became quite popular. He had played baseball since he was 6 or 7, and he continued to play in high school, being the catcher on the varsity team. He played some ball in college too. Brother Snort loves baseball, plays a mean game of golf, and loves any and all LSU sports.

 

And where is Brother Snort now? He and his wife have settled outside of Baton Rouge, LA which is where she is from. They have a beautiful 5-year-old daughter that calls me “Aunt Sissy.” He has a good job that pays well but requires lots of travel. He sometimes calls me when he’s driving for long periods and we shoot the shit for a while. We only get to see each other once a year….sometimes longer. The last time I saw him I was 32 weeks pregnant with 6-inch so he hasn’t met his little nephew yet but has seen him on Skype several times.

 

I don’t have any of our childhood photos out here, but here are some family photos of Brother Snort:

 

vacation

Here we are at a rest stop as we head to the beach for vacation in 1983. That is us with Father Snort. We were really happy to be going on vacation; we just hated long car rides.

 

 

carmenwedding

My brother and I at my wedding to J in Las Vegas. He was one of the groomsmen.

 

 

tonywedding

Our family at Tony’s wedding. I returned the favor and was a bridesmaid in his wedding. And of course you can see Mother and Father Snort.

 

 

tonygarrettbaby

Tony meeting his nephew (and namesake) Footlong for the first time when he was two months old.

 

 

tonybaby

Tony holding his precious daughter after she was born!

 

 

carmentony

Me (32 weeks pregnant with 6-inch) and Tony taking a selfie during his visit to Tucson.

 

 

tonygarrett

Tony hanging out with his nephew and namesake, Garrett Uncle Tony Jackson.

 

Happy Birthday, Butthead! I love you!

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7 thoughts on “Ode to Brother Snort

  1. Love this post! I am super close with my brother as well, he is younger and expecting his first child in August. Also a girl. My oldest is also named after him. Lots of similarities 🙂

    • I wouldn’t say we are super close because we’ve lived at least 1,000 miles apart since 1996 (except for 3 months where I lived with the folks in Texas after my first marriage ended). I feel like I missed out on him growing up. And I’m so glad he didn’t name his daughter after me. I’ve never been crazy about my name.

    • Isn’t that so cute? He knows his correct name now, but he can’t figure out why my brother is called “Tony” instead of “Anthony.” And can I just mention the popularity of the names Anthony/Antonio/Tony on the Rodriguez side of the family? I have an uncle Pedro Antonio (goes by Tony), my brother Anthony (goes by Tony), one cousin named Anthony (goes by Tony), and another cousin named Anthony. Family name, indeed.

  2. Love this post. I live outside of Houston and have all my life. Trying to guess where he went to school. I drive through Baton Rouge every year for the holidays. As an aside, my BIL and SIL both went to LSU. They are huge fans. My BIL had to have an eye removed about 10 years ago due to a BB gun accident as a child. He has a regular false eye but on game days he has an LSU false eye. Craziest thing I’ve ever seen.

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