The Bowery Boys vs. John Wayne (or, How the Duke Goes Down)

While researching a paper on the Catholic influence on world peace, I came across a quote by John Wayne. (Yes, this is how I often end up on the road less travelled.) Regarding Native Americans, he said:

"I don't feel we did wrong in taking this great country away from them. There were great numbers of people who needed new land, and the Indians were selfishly trying to keep it for themselves."

And he meant it.

Boy, do I miss my dad.

My father would tell stories of how his younger brother was an insufferable whiny brat. Whatever Timmy wanted to eat, that was lunch. Whatever he wanted to play, that toy became his, even if it belonged to his older brothers. Whatever he wanted to watch on TV, that show blared into the living room. Now, Uncle Timmy loved John Wayne movies. Back in the day of the Sunday Afternoon Classic, and the Friday Night Late Show, and the NBC Holiday Classic or whatever Show, you could choose from two movies for the afternoon or evening. Well, if one movie was "Big Jim McLain" and the other was "The Bowery Boys Meet the Monsters", little Timmy would cry and say, "But Mom, it's my favorite! Dickie NEVER lets me watch my favorite movies!" He'd run in front the old tube wearing a kid's toy holster and cowboy hat, stick out his tongue at his brother, and grin that smug bratty grin. Insufferable. Whiny. Brat.

My father, the older brother, had little recourse. Just about anything he might do would get him pounded by the adults in the home who just wanted Timmy to shut the hell up; he couldn't change the channel, steal Tim's toy gun, or smack the hell out of him. So, he'd grin a bigger grin in the Whiner's face, lean down low to him, and whisper, "John Wayne is a fairy." It would ruin my uncle's afternoon, everytime. The Whiner became the Tantrumer ("I'll kill you for that, Dickie! John Wayne is an AMERICAN HERO, he is NOT A FAIRY! So WHAT if his real name is Marion!"), and my father would smile and take to his room, the Quiet Victor.

Now, my father is gone, and my uncle remains. He calls Asians "gooks", blacks "niggers", Latinos "spics", and God knows what he calls gays; I don't spend enough time with him to hear it. That my father used a slur against homosexuals may not have been nice, as far as homosexuals are concerned. But my dad wasn't looking to offend gays; he was using his brother's own weapons against him. The tools my uncle used to cut another man down would leave him crying and red in the face when turned in his direction. His hero was a man who stood on principle of murder, displacement, and a sense of entitlement. When it comes to giving the other guy a break, my hero was, is, my dad.

Men and women of every color, race, sexual orientation, and religion came to pay their respects at my dad's wake. They were his real friends, not icons on the screen. My father's lasting quotes are, though borrowed, kind: Keep on keepin' on. Home safe. Shower the people you love with love. Never go to bed angry.

And then, there is that quote all his own: John Wayne was a fairy.