Summary/Moral: man-work, gym-vibes, and to what extent to allow second-chances
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Setting:
I first met this man in the garage of my war-brother’s place in Bozeman, Montana; it was the summertime, and all seemed pleasant in their world. When I returned, we made friends pretty easily, and together were able to make light of the icy northern winters, even with their blizzards and squalls, and while atop slippery rooftops (and, on that note, I’m glad I’d gotten used to being on rooftops as a youth! –and to the bitter cold during Marine Infantry training). Brett was always the one to do the bravest things, and to motivate us to go to the gym regularly, sticking to proven workout techniques. He was a fellow convict, like me and so many of the rest of us at this point in our lives, and, like us, still setting a good example.
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Brett got me my first job in Montana; de-icing and applying shingles to rooftops on homes under construction during the brutal northern winter. It was a great experience for me, as it kept me feeling like a man, and kept me in fantastic shape, keeping my coordination and reflexes great, too. We carried heavy packs of shingles up unsecured ladders, bolted and harnessed in to the rooftop ridges, and made quick work of our low-paying and high-risk assignments; it was far better than the I.T. (desk) job I’d been groomed and pushed toward, and I’m glad that I.T. job never worked out (minus a few moments when I got to put those skills to the test).
Like I said, Brett was a fellow criminal, convict, and good man just trying to make a living while under the boot of the control-freak American (fake) justice system. He mentioned his past once or twice to me, and I was understanding, listening and not asking unless I sensed he wanted to share more. We had an unspoken understanding and respect for each other, though I am pretty sure he felt his past was grittier and more questionable than mine.
His sense of humor was great, and we often shared plenty of jokes, but he nearly got violent on me one day when mine crossed one of his lines I hadn’t known about; I was telling the story of my very inappropriate immediate-relatives, and one counter-insult I’d said to one of them pushed one of Brett’s ‘buttons’. Honestly, I’m rather impressed he managed to not even say anything in response to that part of the story I was telling our truckload of friends; I thought he would at least stop the car and try to beat me (due to his culture/brainwashing and past/nature). Maybe that was one more miracle in our favor.
I got on a snowmobile for the first time since childhood, thanks to Brett’s cousin –thanks to Brett, who introduced us and got me there. He also taught me how to “Colorado” and “hooky-bob”, which you can see in the video clips below, the former meaning to climb up a tree until you fall off, and the latter being to hold onto the back of a vehicle while it drives you around, you using the bottoms of your shoes to ski on. Brett always had a high-adventure life, and those who got near him experienced much of the same.
He was a good coach of our two-apartments group of guys at the local gym, though he also got a little angry there when we didn’t follow his workout plan exactly. I tried not to laugh about this, as I knew he was just very focused, experienced in any gym, and meaning well. No one could come close to the weights he could bench-press and leg-press, and I still hope to near or even surpass his fitness level someday.
Driving well over a safe speed limit on a whitened icy ‘highway’ (road; Montana’s idea of a highway, not even really a street if compared to those in most other states) was also in his skill-set and tendencies. “Arrive alive, Brett,” his girlfriend had nervously said, trying to caution him back to a normal speed after we’d nearly rear-ended a road-servicing vehicle, its flashing warning lights barely visible just in the nick of time (white-out conditions from that day’s blizzard keeping visibility all around us down to just several feet). I admit… I was a little scared, too, but he got us to our destination town safely enough.
A cute girl always seemed to be dating Brett, or at least sitting across his lap during our frequent nightly campfires. Pulling tail like that came easily for him; he was tall, strong, dark, handsome, confident, a hard worker, an exciting criminal, and loyal. All men can learn a lot from his example; even with virtually no money, prospects, or vehicle, a little mystery and gym time will go a VERY long way.
One of the last things I remember about our time as friends was when he got a little heated that I wasn’t picking up the art of skiing during my first time on the slopes. I was annoyed that he kept staring at me, and his eyes flashed, he then asking me to hand over my skis. It was the kind of thing a military instructor might do, dramatically increasing how challenging the exercise was by taking away the most critical pieces of gear, and I’ve since applied the same surgical method to all my dealings –by removing myself from any equation/job in which I am not being met with the same level of focus and effort that I am giving.
Things didn’t work out for us as friends, in the end, but I credit him with getting me the only job that would consider me during my rough transition as a fugitive up into his state, and for showing me a few more Montana towns, as well as keeping my spirits decently high every time he got us pumped up to return for more group gym sessions. I hope things worked out between him and the last girlfriend I saw him with, as they did seem pretty into each other, and she’d already basically moved in. I can’t imagine how tough it was for him to keep going through all the bullshit the state kept throwing at him, and I remain impressed that he kept such a cool head while doing all those admirable and inspiring things; I’ll try to live up to that standard.
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Quick Bio:
So much in the Bible was left to our imagination. What were the ancient characters really like? This section of each of our Biblor’an pages helps us more accurately picture our own.
- Given Name: Brett ?
- Birthplace/Hometown: ?, MT
- DOB: ~1985
- Hair/Eyes: brown/brown
- Height/Weight: 5’10″/200 lbs.
- Race/Nationality: Native American/American
- Distinguishing Features: near-bodybuilder muscle-tone, dentures
- Common Attire: blue-collar worker’s clothes; blue-jeans, boots, tool-belt, heavy-duty gloves, etc.
- Voice/Personality: tenor/friendly with a hint of underlying intensity
- Education/Career: average/construction
- Diet/Health: standard/above-average (due to daily gym sessions)
- Preferences/Mannerisms: cigarettes, coffee, campfire hangouts, occasional video-game sessions / taking charge of workouts
- Relatives/Descendants: mother in Missoula
Brett was part Native American, and still had that warrior-blood in him so clearly. He’d been a “repayment persuader”, then yanked through the American “justice” system, and finally a construction contractor and well-adjusted friend.
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Jokes:
- TBA
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Quotes:
- TBA
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Terms Coined:
- TBA
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Major Influence on Inisfree:
construction practices (and people) to avoid; de-icing rooftops and carrying shingles up unsecured ladders during far-north snowstorms is not easy, nor fun, especially under the scrutiny of dropouts, felons, and uneducated jerks hungry for respect and any little bit of power
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