I have known Curly as long as I have known Eric and Beedith and several other friends. Curly is special, has always been Autistic. He was raised by television, after his dad "got tired of being a father" and left Moe, Curly and Larry to be raised by their mom, who worked three jobs to feed her sons, and only saw them on vacations from her job. When I met Curly, he was going on seventeen. It took me two solid years to get an entire sentence out of him.

When he walked into my house and said "I saw a Harley Davidsom Motorcycle on my way here and it was beautiful!" I tossed him in my car and we drove to our neighborhood Harley Dealer. I briefly explained about Curly to the salesman, who then took Curly for a ride around the block, and spent half an hour talking to Curly about Harleys. Turned out Curly knew the history of Harley from day one, all in his head. The guy said he had to go, but to come by any time. Curly went back, and to other Harley Dealers, for years, just to talk, mind you.

On vacations, Mom took them to Disneyland in California, and to see the oceans on both coasts, Yew York, The Statue of Liberty, the Grand Canyon and the Old West. She was a woman who worked too hard and received little reward, saved as much as she could from what she made, left her sons fixed for life, and had a long, slow, unpleasant death.

Did I mention that Curly had a girlfriend, a woman he intended to marry? Yes, He did. Curly had a job at a bar, and had told me all about this girl, and his plan to buy her a ring. We consulted about jewelers. It never happened. She was kidnapped, murdered and dismembered by a horrible man who, through the offices of the criminal justice system, has now done it several more times, and is out on bail again as I type this. She was dragged off the street into a van, and her body was found many days later, in pieces, frozen in the street. I guess you could say that was the moment Curly decided to cut all ties with reality as the rest of us know it.

Curly was devastated beyond bereft. He went to visit her family, and they all mourned together. The little sister of his girlfriend mourned with him so deeply that nine months later, she bore Curly a son. They all moved to California. For the first few years of their child's life, Curly was permitted to live in the parents' home and provide all the care for the little boy, on the condition that he not have any contact with it's mother.

At some point, the baby's mother went cuckoo crazy and decided her son should have no further contact with men, and moved away. Curly returned to Chicago and worked as a bartender. [Replay this part countless times.] So Curly has a son who is of legal age, and has no contact with him except to ask for money. "Get a Job." is his father's constant refrain. This is foreign language to the son.

Mom had figured the boys would fight over the money, so she gave it all to the oldest one, hoping he would look out for his brothers. But the Sufis, with whom he said he "had been studying for 5,000 years", directed him to use it otherwise. Translation: "He had read one of Gurjeiff's Books." Well, the Sufi's bled them bone dry of money.

Being out of cash on hand, mom had to go to the local nursing home for the indigent. When Curly found the bills, later, he learned the Sufis had directed Moe to spend over sixty-five thousand dollars at a local K-Mart. Hmmm. Doesn't SOUND like a Sufi, but who am I to judge? Please God, tell me what K-mark has that costs $65,000.00? I suspect Moe's wench was a tippler, but who am I to say for sure?

Mom had nailed down the house, though, so that whatever remained after the sale of her real estate in a very desirable neighborhood, and payment of taxes, was, according to the will, to be paid out in three checks of equal payments, to her three sons. They gathered at the Lawyer's office to get their checks, and then parted ways; Moe, the Sufi, going back to his Trailer home, Larry, to his secret apartment, which he believed no one suspected where it was, (but there were receipts for years of Mom paying his rent,) and Curly to rent a basement in a friend's home for cheap, no view, manageable rent.

Curly was not clueless, but avoided the black holes who were his siblings. I told him to stash all the money into bank notes and not touch it, that he would be old some day and need it. So he did.

Curly wanted money to live on. I told him to get a job. He did. He has a job, he lives on it. He drinks the odd beer, goes to cheap concerts, hangs out with his friends and lives on what he earns. He saves up and travels, he visits friends everywhere. The rest of the money does not exist for him. It is for when he is "OLD".

Years have now passed. Curly's Brother Moe (the Sufi) went through his (almost a hundred thousand dollars) quickly and showed up at Curly's house in begging mode. Curly, at my direction, told him: "No" is a complete sentence." He went away, only returning every few years to see if "No." Still meant "no." It did. Curly suggested his brother get a job. The brother hasn't been heard from since.

Now the Younger Brother, Larry went through his money fast too. Soon he was at the door in begging mode. And Curly, knowing the drill, told him to get a job. There was some ugly defamation of Curly's character, followed by another sincere "No." Larry was gone, in a blaze of fury that Curly would not support his two poverty stricken brothers, who were not about to get jobs if he (Curly) had money for them to live off.

The thing is, Curly, in fact, IS getting old. And still he works, lives on what he earns, and hasn't touched a penny of all that money. And I can't convince him that he is getting old enough to begin to spend it, slowly, to meet his simple needs. He hasn't had a complete medical examination since before his mother became too demented to tell him to get one. He has decided to keep enough money to bury his siblings. And he might as well keep the rest until he really needs it, when he is old. I suspect I need to talk to a money manager to figure it out from here. Like so many criminals, I meant well at the start.

Comments: