I’m not doing the challenge provided (a family member you dislike) today. Instead, after prompting from the previous post, I’m going to tell you about the Puerto Rican on a Stick.  My family used to be big. And even when it was big, we had more friends than we did family. I was quite old when I came to the realization that several members of my family weren’t family at all. Not by blood, not by marriage, not by nothin’ other than their proximity to us.  One of these people is whom I lovingly refer to as the Puerto Rican on a Stick. I don’t know why I thought we were related. I guess because I always knew him. The story goes (what I can get out of anyone, at least) is that he became friends with my uncle Dale somehow, some way, back in the early 1970’s. He lived in New Orleans, so I don’t know how they met. He is very dark skinned, with jet black hair & eyes. Hence the “Puerto Rican”. But he’s not Puerto Rican. He’s Indian, I guess. I don’t honestly know. He had polio when he was very young, & now walks with canes attached to his forearms. Hence the “stick” part. Except to be correct, it should actually be sticks, but that’s not as funny…