Family Guy

Night after night, our daily ritual of getting into bed, turning on some television and drifting into a peaceful sleep doesn’t seem to be working out very well lately. With hundreds of channels to choose from, we seem to select the most un-appealing types of shows to watch. You would think the "Nature Channel" would be a good choice, but no sooner do you hit select on the remote does a lion snatch an antelope out of mid air and feasts on him as the poor animal looks helplessly at the camera, eyes blinking, wondering how is he ever going to get his entrails back from the hyena pulling them into the bushes. Lovely. Click. Great, a new show, "Paranormal Kids". Nothing more peaceful than visions of "Emo" Kids in skinny jeans floating around my room as I drift into bliss. Click. "Intervention". Another wise viewing choice, bringing back warm fuzzy memories of days gone by. Hopeless situations of families that are trying to intervene with lost caused relatives. This program hits too hard to home for any kind of peaceful sleep. Click. "Family Guy". Now how can you go wrong? Who doesn’t want to watch a cartoon of a fat guy suckling on his own breast while sitting on a toilet, naked? Not me. Click, enough of that. By this time, my wife is fast asleep, I’m jealous at how easy she falls asleep. Click, off with the TV. I will be awake for awhile.
Slowly turning to face her, I am looking at her, wanting to talk, but no chance of that. I decide to tell her a story with mind power. Thinking of the terrible viewing choices I had just encountered, I will tell her of someone who intervened in my life without even knowing, and is also a great "Family Guy". The fact she is sleeping, assures me I will have her full attention.
I will tell her about my Uncle Bill, Bill O’Malley.
Not really my uncle, but my fathers’ cousin. I have known him all my life and always called him Uncle Bill.
Now I could go on and on about what a great "family Guy" my own father is, but that would be too easy and I tell her all the time anyways.
My father and Uncle Bill have been working together for years at the same construction company. Some of my fondest memories are of going to the yard with my dad on Saturday mornings and Uncle Bill always putting a dollar bill in my pocket. Or the times I would go to Red Wing games and we would meet him between periods in the hall ways. There he was, standing tall, white turtleneck and tan blazer with a glass of smelly ginger ale in his hand. Oh yeah, tooth pick. They would talk and I enjoyed being around them feeling grown up.
As the years go by, I tell my wife, who is now snoring, my life is a disaster with one problem after another, all brought on by my own bad choices. I found myself once again asking for help from my Dad. He lets me come home. Even after all I have put him through; he too could not turn his back, because he also is a "Family Guy".
So here I am, staying in the spare bedroom after being away for years, trying to start out again in my late 30’s. I look for work every where, willing to do anything that comes along. To top it off, my mother is driving me around! What a sight, me filling out an application for a pizza place, her and I laughing as we try to do the simplest math problems on the application, counting on our fingers wondering if division is really necessary for making pizza. God I love her. I didn’t get the job.
"So here it is, dead of winter", as my wife turns to face me, her breath not smelling as Minty Fresh as it did when she came to bed. My father came home early one day and calls me to the basement. "Johnny, Bill wanted to know if you had found work, when I told him no, he said to bring you in and maybe he would keep you busy". What you have to remember, is that Bill has always been aware of problems I have had in the past and if it were me, I wouldn’t hire me! I am totally shocked as I hug my dad never thinking I could be a "Hartwell" cement Man.
As I walk into the office on my first day, I meet some of the guys, feeling a little uncomfortable because here I am, another relative being given a job and to top it off it off, it was winter time and not much work. And even worse, I have no experience what so ever, surrounded by men who have been working with the company for years, and because they are union, I will make the same wage.
Except for a simple "Hello Johnny" from Bill, he started assigning the days work duty’s to the crews. I got stuck with my dad to be his labor for the day. Lucky him! During that first day, I don’t think words can express how happy I was to be sitting with him as we ate our lunch together on a cement parking block of a gas station. The happiness short lived as he yelled at me for something I did. God I love him.
A few days went by and one morning I found myself sandwiched between a couple Mexican workers on my way to a job site. Today they were working on an elevator shaft pouring the cement walls. I had no clue what to do, but in broken english was told to do this and that. Here I am, clinging to the side of the wall, scared of heights while this crazy old Mexican is yelling at me about handing him a "BURROACHA!" or something like that. I had no idea what he was saying and swore I would find out what "Puto"
means, because he said it several times.
Just as I was thinking I wished the pizza place would call, I hear "Hey Johnny!" from up above. I look up. It was my Uncle Bill standing on the edge of the elevator pit looking as cool as he did at the Red Wing games many years ago, standing tall, hard hat slightly crooked, tooth pick. He sweeps his arm across the entire site as if he were parting the red sea and bellows "Johnny, you pay attention to everything going on here!! You will be running this crew in no time!" "Ok Uncle Bill" I yelled as I held on to the wall scared to death. I looked up again and he was gone. The problem was, the whole crew was still there, and looking at me, the crazy old Mexican mumbled something and went back to work as did the rest of the men.
"After a few years" I continue telling my sleeping wife, who doesn’t realize she just farted, "I worked for a couple years finally moving on to other things"
I guess the true meaning of this story is that as we get surrounded all the time with dysfunctional people and families with real and tragic stories, but keep in mind the true "Family Guys" that come in and out of our lives, as my Uncle Bill has. Not some cartoon figure but a man with such strong family values that even years later I think of the situation I was in and how he helped me. Giving me a chance as my own father has to earn the title of "Family Guy".
"Goodnight Honey, I love you". I will sleep peacefully this night. No animals ripping apart flesh, no creepy kids hovering in the bedroom.

John McCarthy