Anonymous

I have a soft spot for black sheep, except in my own family. I admit it's hypocritical, but at a distance I don't have to pay any price, so it's easier to see and respond to their charm.

When I was a kid shame was the big thing in my family: when we walked out the door we carried the good reputations of our ancestors with us, and when we failed, we sullied and shamed them. My mother, especially, was big on that. "You have nothing but your honor. Your honor is the only thing that matters--the only thing they can't take from you." Parenting five adult children has softened her position. One in particular has softened her position. I remain fairly hardline on the position, and that creates dissonance between my mother and me; I am not as forgiving as she in matters of honor. The difference, I know, is that I have not had a child cross that line yet; I haven't been tested that way. She has.

My brother, the black sheep, did something that I can't tell you about (but if you know my last name you could search and easily find it.) He's a long drink of trouble--ten miles of bad road--and he's been found out in a very public way: he's breaking news on every major network here and in the UK, and in the online national news of every major paper in the US. Every outlet, in short, that the Associated Press feeds to. Two very bad things--one of them a felony, but it's about money so it doesn't interest me as much as the other very bad thing, which is about exploiting vulnerable people. He called my mother today to prepare her--to position what's happened, to tell her things that couldn't possibly be true--things he knows from experience she will cling to, because the alternative is, for her, unthinkable.

But still, she knows. Tonight she looks like she's been hit by a truck.

That's my brother. Will be tuning into Leno tonight to see if he makes it into the monologue. Thank God it's Friday and there's no Colbert Report.