yeah, my older brother is 40 today, and in true “sheri form,” i’m thinking about how old that makes ME feel. of course, my thoughtfulness (ha!) doesn’t end there.
i’ve been thinking about my brother a lot lately, particularly my childhood brother, not the dedicated elementary school principal husband superdad of two very cool girls (love you, R & C!) that he is today. i suppose this is mostly because i’m raising a mini him, meaning clyde (they even wear holes in their knees the same way—see photo below). my childhood brother, through my eyes, was a meticulous, sensitive, hard-on-himself oldest child, a good clean fun seeker, a monopoly annihilator, a practical joker, and a do-gooder to the core carrying constant annoyance with his pesky, very-different younger sibling. complex, yes. and so similar to my oldest.
my brother and me with homegrown tomatoes, 1973
i have always known my brother was a complex person; however, it is only now that i witness his childhood in another time and place. from a new perspective. and definitely a more loving one.
today i put clyde on time out for being the eternal “parent” he can’t help but be sometimes. he likes to think he knows what’s better for leo than i do. so yes, i had to put him on time out for being too good. then when i forgot he was on time out and asked him to join me for something, he said, “remember mom? i was in trouble! shouldn’t i stay in my room?” uh, flashback, circa 1989, when my brother takes off on the biggest rebellion of his youth, and it’s a religious one. even his bad was good.
as deeply as i dig into my own character, i will never get this behavior. i pretty much lived for the moment when my parents would “forget” the trouble i had just made. sure, i was hard on myself, but never outwardly. never would i admit to anyone that i felt badly for what i had done (a problem i still battle today). and i imagine, there is a similar struggle that goes on with a person who’s driven to do “good.” to do the right thing. especially when you’re a kid and the wrong thing comes in play and you realize you just couldn’t help yourself.
i can’t claim to really know anything more about my brother, i suppose. i will never truly know what it is to be the oldest child, even while i raise one. or what it is to be my brother. the man. the father. the person he is. but with my recent experiences with parenting and parenting clyde, in particular, i am a lot more driven to find out more. to investigate, if you will. to understand what it was like and is like to walk in my brother’s shoes. after all, we have common experiences. the same parents. the same youth. but it’s all completely different too. experienced from the utterly intrinsic and complicated workings of two different people in the same family. sure, we have shared our experiences in many ways over the years. we have remembered our pasts, our childhoods, our then-so-dang-young parents together. but it is very exciting to me that there is still so much to learn and share and hopefully understand.
happy birthday, big brother. damn, you are as OLD, as you are supercool. and i love you, even though you wouldn’t share your slime with me (evidence below).
my brother and me with slime, around 1976
:: inspiring happy
rainy days • hot chocolate • ruby-throated hummingbird sipping on my camellias
:: wanting
my sister-in-law’s amazing carrot birthday cake
:: watching & reading
“how i learned to stop hating my mother” (thanks, h!) • atonement (thanks, n!)
My younger sister turned 30 this year, and I keep thinking to myself , “wow, she is getting old.” I, the older sister, am not geting old — just she is!!
P.S.:
Obviously, 30 is not old. It’s just that my “little sister” isn’t so litle anymore.