this little life

Lunch with Doctor Barn in the Chat and Chew.
As always I am mildly discommoded by the steady stream of diners to our table. They are there to pay homage to my brother and not to me.
It's like something from The Godfather.
"Don Barn thank you for saving my wife's life."
"Don Barn thank you for curing my fever."
"Don Barn thank you for sending the rain and making the crops grow."
I'm nearly certain I heard someone say that last one.
And other such yulch.
Ireland's greatest living poet, once the writer of the mighty While I'm At It column, sits unattended and unremarked.
The cup has passed to another.
Presently Francis Ford Coppola says "take five," and the two brothers are left with time alone.
Doctor Barn tells me a story.
It is about a recent family gathering at a restaurant. The formidable Aunty Teresa had become ill at the centre table but didn't want to go home. Uncle Reg was trying to persuade her to leave. She wouldn't. Uncle Reg approached Doctor Barn and asked him to intercede.
Doctor Barn took Aunty Teresa aside and advised her firmly to go home.
She went.
Now folks this story touched most nearly upon my heart. Because the aunt and uncle have always been the big people to me. And here they were deferring to my little brother.
At this moment, and not before, I realised he was no longer my little brother.
"You know what's happened Barn," I cried warmly. "You've become John Shaft."
I then began to sing a parody of the theme tune to the classic 1970s blaxploitation film Shaft.
"Who's the one you gonna call,
When your Aunty's on the floor?
Shaft! John Shaft! Can you dig it...
Who's the one you want to show up,
When your baby's throwing up?
Shaft! John Shaft! That's right..."

I can assure you gentle readers, the brother got tired of this song long before I did.