A R-R-R-Raising Hand

Stuttering is not a funny condition.

While I have never been a stutterer, my younger brother, Legs, has been afflicted with it all of his life. He went into therapy to correct it, and the therapy helped, but when he gets excited, the stuttering still comes out. It's something he has to live with.

One of his best friends when we were growing up in Sutersville, PA. was Eddie Hopp, another stutterer. Eddie, like my brother, had a good sense of humor. When he would meet Legs on the street, Eddie would say, 'L-L-Legs, d-d-do you have 15 m-m-minutes?'

Legs would reply, 'S-S-Sure, Eddie. W-W-Why?'

Eddie would respond, 'I w-w-would like to h-h-have a five m-m-minute conversation with you.'

My brother would play poker with the guys in town. One of them, Junebug, owned a bar and hotel along the railroad tracks. Any time Legs would start sweating and say, 'I r-r-raise,' Junebug would fold his cards and say, 'I'm out. Legs has a hand.'

One of the unique aspects of stuttering has to do with singing. Legs has a marvelous voice that he uses as a gospel singer with a well-known quartet in the Pittsburgh area, the Steel City Quartet. When he sings, he never stutters. His voice comes out full and strong. He is so good that he was honored by being made a member of the Gospel Hall of Fame.

Over the years I have tried to talk Legs into learning to play poker. He always refuses.

'I'm a slot machine player and that's it,' he says. 'If I ever got a good hand, I would start stuttering and give away my hand. I could never win.'

Of course I disagreed with my brother. I told him he could be sly and start stuttering when he had a bad hand and wanted to bluff. But he still wouldn't agree to learn poker.

We still have fun at the casinos. We will go to the Meadows or Rivers Casino in Pittsburgh. He will play the slots and I will find a poker table and make my buy-in.

After we are finished playing, we will settle down in the lounge for a drink before heading home. There we will compare notes. If I lost, he will always criticize my play and tell me what I should have done.

'Legs,' I remind him, 'you are not a poker player. You don't know anything about the game, so how can you find fault with what I did?'

'I k-k-know enough a-about you and p-p-poker to know you screwed up,' he will say, ending the conversation.

Despite his reluctance to learn poker, I refuse to give up on my brother. He has a brilliant analytical mind with a good memory. He raises grapes in his backyard, makes the best wine on Sutersville Hill, and, like me, follows politics. He is a major supporter of President Donald Trump and, like a lot of fellow Conservatives, believes Hillary Clinton should go to jail.

As for me, I wish Legs and Eddie Hopp would have learned to play poker. Each hand would probably last 10 minutes but it would have been hilarious to watch.

Author: Geno Lawrenzi Jr.

(Geno Lawrenzi Jr. is an international journalist, magazine author and ghostwriter and poker player who lives in Phoenx, AZ. He has published 2,000 articles in 50 magazines and 125 newspapers. If you want to share a gambling story or book idea with him, send an email to glawrenzi@gmail.com ).