Jul 012011

Awhile back, I wrote about one of my old neighbors whom I dubbed Tourette’s because of his oft-profane outbursts. He must still live closeby because I see him walking past the house a lot, and often run into him at the local Eat n Park and Tom’s Diner.

A few weeks ago, Chooch and I were walking home from CVS and had the great fortune of passing him, mid-outburst.

Chooch of course stopped after the man had walked by and proceeded to stare as he retreated.

“Why is he so mad?” he asked me. I didn’t really know what to say, so I just said that sometimes he likes to yell and swear for no reason.

“We should call the police on him,” Chooch suggested earnestly.

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[I should remember this for the next time Chooch has his own (daily) outburst.]

“He might have a medical condition that makes him yell like that,” I tried to put delicately, when really I wanted to pee myself at the memory of epic lawnmower wrestling matches of yesteryear and whine, “He’s psychotic and really scares me! Hold me, son!”

“Or,” Chooch mused thoughtfully, “he might just watch The Family Guy a lot.”

OK. Or that.


The other day, we had the pleasure of sharing the sidewalk with him again on the way back from the store. I prayed and prayed and prayed that he wouldn’t be spouting off and that my outspoken kid wouldn’t feel inspired to confront him. I started flexing a hand in preparation of clamping Chooch’s mouth shut.

Luckily, one of Chooch’s neighborhood friends (he has a LOT of them; I have NONE) was across the street so Chooch ran ahead to greet them maniacally, never even noticing Tourettes. Crisis averted. (This time, anyway.)

My town is one big mental ward. I mean, I’m a resident, after all. I can only hope that I grow into one of those…”colorful” characters who skulk around town leaving a trail of mental dysfunction in their wake. I like to think I’m one of them in training.

I’m going to make my own Brookline postcards, make you all wish you were here.

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Leave a comment if you want a slice of schizophrenia! (Seriously. I’ll email you for your address.

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I love sending post cards!)

  16 Responses to “People of Brookline”

  1. Oh my gawd! Who wouldn’t want some of that craaazy goodness delivered to their mailbox!? Sign me up!

  2. LOL!

    You should come to West Carrollton, there is much to see and be heard.


  3. That’s hilarious! I want Chooch to confront him. That would suck ass for you, but it would be hilarious to read about.


  5. Yes postcard please!

  6. I love schizos! You would have a ball in my tiny village (population of ~500); lots of strange ducks here.
    Please send me a postcard!

  7. things. in the mail. please. send. now.

  8. This post made me laugh pretty hard because I have the same condition although mine hasn’t been “officially” diagnosed. My husband did the diagnosing and he thinks he’s pretty smart. It also made me laugh because I am the first to judge all of the nuts in my neighborhood always forgetting how crazy I am.

    By the way, I am drawn to that picture for some reason.

    I apologize for my many comments and late ones at that for I am just now catching up on your blog.

  9. James is just like Chooch; he will make very loud comments about people, both crazy and sane, before we’re out of earshot. Except he’s 31, not 5.

    All I ever receive is junk mail or bills; I would feel like Charlie Bucket finding a golden ticket if I received a Brookline postcard!

  10. I would luhrve a slice o’ schizophrenia! Who wouldn’t?

  11. Oh, I’d love a postcard. I somehow missed it earlier.

    Do you need my address or do you still have it?

  12. If it’s not too late, I’d love a post card. I have one to send you too :)

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