For years, I have been trying to talk my younger brother John, who goes by the nickname of Legs, to learn to play poker.
He always refuses. He is a slot machine junkie and they never change for anybody.
True, he is a well-known gospel singer in The Steel City Quartet. And he doesn't want to let it get out to his church organization that he is -- heaven forbid -- a gambler. That offense might make Legs unwelcome at the next meeting of the Confederate Daughters of America. He definitely wouldn't be welcome at any church function that pays gospel singers to perform.
Nevertheless, Legs refuses to play poker. He can't tell me why. But I think I know the answer.
It's because of his false teeth.
When my brother gets excited, as all Lawrenzis tend to do, his teeth get ret rattled and sometimes he even loses them.
You can imagine what would happen if my brother got into a raising pot. He would be looking at his aces full of kings and stammer, 'I r.r-r-r-raise the pot.'
Which would make the other players all fold their hands. When Legs stutters, it's a dead giveaway that he has a hand.
My brother had to overcome that stutter from childhood. His teachers thought he wasn't a fast learner instead of figuring out it was his stutter that caused the problem. My brother is one of the smartest people I know.
He grows grapes that produce the best-tasting wine on Sutersville Hill in Sutersville, PA. , pop. 967.
He has the only cactus plant growing in his garden on the hill and perhaps in the State of Pennsylvania. A cactus, by the way, that he stole from a desert in the State of Arizona. I just hope the Statute of Limitations have expired.
No, my brother will criticize me for the way I played a hand in a poker tournament. He thinks he understands poker concepts, but until he plays for money, he will never know.
Still, I love my brother very much. He is always in my corner praying for me, and sharing in the glory when I win. I feel the same way about him when he makes his twice-a-month slot machine escapades to The Meadows in Washington, PA. Legs' only fear is that one of his church members will catch him there playing the slots. There is a lot of blackjack that goes on in gospel circles.
And so I keep playing my poker tournaments. When I succeed, I call Legs and boast about it. When I lose a tournament, I don't call him and he knows the probable outcome.
I know one thing about my brother. When he plays, he plays with his heart. He goes all-out as did our late father who, in his 70s, would slide into third base on the softball field on Ab Huss's farmland.
I can still see Dad running around those bases, losing his hat, and sliding into a base. He might knock down the neighborhood kid who was playing there, but Dad would generally steal the base.
That is part of the trait of being a Lawrenzi. We don't give up. Right, brother?
