Stories about me and Tomby
Jun. 15th, 2003 06:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jawnbcAs requested by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
toneyvr, here's a story about me and brother Tom.
We drank quite a lot. Tommy and I are both sober now for a number of years, but we spent many years veritably pickled. And we got up to all sorts of shenanigans. For now I'll focus on some of the amusing ones.
Bar-a-thons: None of the boys in our neighbour had Olympic ambitions, but we had our local version--started by Tommy--called the bar-a-thon. A beautifully simple plan: list every bar in Rockaway, and have at least one drink (beer, mixed drink or shot ~ wine is 4 wussies) in each bar. All bar-a-thon participants had their own copy of the list, and had to have the bartender AND Tommy sign their sheets as proof of having said drink. Though we quite often had 2 or 3 per bar.
Start time: noon. End time: around 2am. Number of bars: 20-27. Number of guys who finished (women weren't stoopid enough to do it): 4 or 5. Number of the Egan boys who finished: all 3 of us, me, Tommy and Mike.
One year, our local amusement park (Playland) had been razed; where a rollercoaster and other rickety rides once stood was a debris pile. One of our bars was also destroyed, but the sheets had already been printed. So we grabbed a case of beer and sat on the pile of rubble drinking...until one of the guys fell through the pile, into the basement.
So we joined him--can't let a buddy drink alone--then crawled out and on to the next bar.
Here's a pic of the 3 of us from 2 years ago:
Mike, me and Tom.
Jawn comes out: I was attending uni in upstate New York, it was 1985, and I was not doing well. I was no longer able to delude myself that fucking guys was merely recreation--I had fallen in love with one, only to be dumped. I was miserable, and dreaded coming out to my family, given our strong Oirish Catlick roots. But one weekend on the phone to Tommy, it was clear I was fooked up--and not drunk. The conversation went something quite like this:
T: What's wrong?
J: Nothing
T: Bullshit! What's wrong?
J: Nothing
T: Bullshit! What's wrong? You can tell me.
J: No I can't
(pause)
T: Yeah, you can. You can tell me anything
J: Nope, not this
T: Jawn, an ee thing. Come on
J: Not this Tommy
T: Jawn, it's ok. I'm telling you it's OK. You can tell me
J: Uh, I'm gay?
T: It's OK, I love you anyways. And besides, if Rock sucks cock, why can't you?
(laughter and tears)
This was when Rock Hudson's AIDS became public knowledge. Tommy's unique way of telling me he loved me no matter what, gave me hope. And courage. Props also to my sister-in-law (then his fiancé) Theresa, who pegged me as a homo and prepped Tommy for that conversation. They're both awesome.
And here's my favourite picture of me and Tommy, from 1997 or so.
Apparently he's quite handsome. He still looks 8 years old and freckled to me.
Love ya Tom!
toneyvr, here's a story about me and brother Tom.We drank quite a lot. Tommy and I are both sober now for a number of years, but we spent many years veritably pickled. And we got up to all sorts of shenanigans. For now I'll focus on some of the amusing ones.
Bar-a-thons: None of the boys in our neighbour had Olympic ambitions, but we had our local version--started by Tommy--called the bar-a-thon. A beautifully simple plan: list every bar in Rockaway, and have at least one drink (beer, mixed drink or shot ~ wine is 4 wussies) in each bar. All bar-a-thon participants had their own copy of the list, and had to have the bartender AND Tommy sign their sheets as proof of having said drink. Though we quite often had 2 or 3 per bar.
Start time: noon. End time: around 2am. Number of bars: 20-27. Number of guys who finished (women weren't stoopid enough to do it): 4 or 5. Number of the Egan boys who finished: all 3 of us, me, Tommy and Mike.
One year, our local amusement park (Playland) had been razed; where a rollercoaster and other rickety rides once stood was a debris pile. One of our bars was also destroyed, but the sheets had already been printed. So we grabbed a case of beer and sat on the pile of rubble drinking...until one of the guys fell through the pile, into the basement.
So we joined him--can't let a buddy drink alone--then crawled out and on to the next bar.
Here's a pic of the 3 of us from 2 years ago:
Mike, me and Tom.
Jawn comes out: I was attending uni in upstate New York, it was 1985, and I was not doing well. I was no longer able to delude myself that fucking guys was merely recreation--I had fallen in love with one, only to be dumped. I was miserable, and dreaded coming out to my family, given our strong Oirish Catlick roots. But one weekend on the phone to Tommy, it was clear I was fooked up--and not drunk. The conversation went something quite like this:
T: What's wrong?
J: Nothing
T: Bullshit! What's wrong?
J: Nothing
T: Bullshit! What's wrong? You can tell me.
J: No I can't
(pause)
T: Yeah, you can. You can tell me anything
J: Nope, not this
T: Jawn, an ee thing. Come on
J: Not this Tommy
T: Jawn, it's ok. I'm telling you it's OK. You can tell me
J: Uh, I'm gay?
T: It's OK, I love you anyways. And besides, if Rock sucks cock, why can't you?
(laughter and tears)
This was when Rock Hudson's AIDS became public knowledge. Tommy's unique way of telling me he loved me no matter what, gave me hope. And courage. Props also to my sister-in-law (then his fiancé) Theresa, who pegged me as a homo and prepped Tommy for that conversation. They're both awesome.
And here's my favourite picture of me and Tommy, from 1997 or so.
Apparently he's quite handsome. He still looks 8 years old and freckled to me.
Love ya Tom!
