By Tom Dodge, KERA 90.1 commentator
Dallas, TX – If you pursue your eccentricities with diligence you will eventually achieve notoriety. Buster proves this theory to my satisfaction. Everybody in our family, just about, has a Buster story.
And everybody knows somebody like him. They are loveable pests, socially dysfunctional moochers, skilled at surviving without employment. The sad truth is they have a mental dysfunction but are expected nevertheless to behave normally.
Buster's extreme mischief as a child was an omen.
This developed into a grown-up version in which larceny often became involved. He borrowed his stepmother's brother's truck and sold it. For this he received two throttlings - one from the owner and another from the buyer. Because it is impossible to dislike him, we have all been Bustered many times. He sold his grandfather's friend's horse trailer twice.
Speaking of his grandfather, because he is so fond of Buster, he is probably his easiest mark. On one occasion, Pops noticed that his wrecker was on blocks with all four wheels missing. Buster needed the wheels to get his car inspected and borrowed them with the usual intention of returning them. But before he could do so, his car was repossessed, Pops' wheels and all. Later Pops sold him a car and carried the note but Buster needed cash so he sold it to a woman at the grocery store, promising to present her with the title later. Pops sympathized with the woman, gave her the title and ate the loss.
But the rental shop owner did not write it off when Buster rented the entertainment center and sold it to his friend down at the packing plant. This escapade cost Buster money and time, and you can guess where he spent the time.
You get Bustered because you always feel you are helping him and that he will eventually settle down and start watching "American Idol" like everybody else. Again, the truth is, he's doing the best he can, but there's a screw loose that can't be tightened.
The last time I was Bustered was on a recent Sunday night when he called from Terrell saying he was stranded on I-20 due to a blowout. Of course he had no spare and his battery was dead. His wife and four little stair-step children were with him.
We drove to Terrell and found them. "I'm short of money, Tommy," he said, first thing. At Denny's, while they feasted on burgers and pizza and Cokes, I fidgeted due to frayed nerves. There he was, stranded, no money, no tires, no battery, no place to stay, but chattering happily about his new cell phone he "found."
I blew my top and told him to focus on his problems. "Okay, Tommy," he said, smiling sweetly, "don't worry so much. You want to see my new Medicaid card?"
He was way ahead of me.
The way he was way ahead of me was that he knew we would pay for the food (40 bucks), the motel, (80 bucks), and then give him more (40 bucks) when we left.
The rest of the night I worried about him. The next morning I had the solution. I would call him at his found cell phone and tell him I'm coming with a wheel from son Lyndon's car, and a new battery. I was proud of myself for my problem-solving ability.
"Aw, Tommy," he said, "A guy took me to get a wrecker last night and bring my car. I already got that dang thing fixed, Tommy."
He called later that morning from the gas station in Midlothian. "Could you come down here and let me have twenty bucks? This dang car's already outta gas."
The money got him to his mother's house. She had his car repaired, paid his motel bill for a week, then told him to be sure to go straight home while the car was still running.
He called the next day from Galveston, where his car had been stolen, he said. He had gone there for a vacation. He said he could sure use some money to help him out of a tight spot.
Bustered again.
Tom Dodge is a writer from Midlothian.