Random memories

I remember learning that my brother was who I could count on. (Except one day in the first grade, where I told my mom, my brother, and my babysitter I was going to a friends after school. After playing, I was walking home, and halfway home I was met by the babysitter who yelled at me and asked where I had been. I tried to remind her that I had said I was going to a friends house, but all I heard was that the police were looking for me, and no one knew where I was. Boy oh boy. Not even the brother would admit I had told anyone.) But that's another story, for another day. While you read these memories, keep in mind he was the only guy in a sea of girls. He lived in a petticoat world and seldom, complained. He yearned for more, I could tell.

Other than that, he could always be counted on. I have a very distant memory where we learned all we had was each other. Very slight memory of my grandfather, my mother and my father outside arguing. Of course they were outside, isn't that where all domestic disputes happen? I remember my dad hitting my granpa, my grandfather collapsing, and an ambulance being called. I am not sure if he had a heart attack or was just stunned. My dad split and my mom began the slow descent into helplessness.

From the time I was about 5 I remember my brother being named "man of the house". What a horrible thing to happen to a 6 year old. He took on the weight of the world and became they guy to go to. The grandparents had decided that my mom had made poor choices and would no longer bail her out from the consequences of her choices. We began the nomadic years. We moved every 6 to 8 months for one reason or another until I was 15 years old.

It was hard on my brother. He took his responsibility very seriously. He would get us up, make sure we had something to eat, make sure we were all dressed, and off to school we'd go. Remember we also had the little girls, my sisters 1 1/2 and 3 years younger than us. They would stay with Sophie, a young girl who had problems of her own, who stayed with us because she had no where else to go. She was 18 and had moved out of her parents home and come to live with us. It wasn't until I was about 10 that Sophie married a marine and went her separate way. We haven't seen her since. I don't even know her last name.

Well back to the brother. He had such a sense of responsibility toward all of us. He had a few friends but made it clear to them that we had to come first. Everywhere we lived. Can you imagine being 6 or 7 and suddenly have to make new friends for yourself and siblings, be the responsible one of all of them, and then keep up in school, explain to adults who we were and why we travelled in a pack, and always be told he was too young to handle such responsibilities. "Well, of course, I am he would say, but that's the way it is. I am in charge and you have to go through me to get any farther."

I think the hardest part was having to put his "station" on the shelf when the random guy my mom would date would come along. They'd pat him on the head and call him big guy making all those sideways chuckling comments. It angered him, as well as me, to be treated like a kid. They would come and go and you could visibly see him inflate and deflate and the sight of the new boyfriends. All this, and he never backed away from the responsibility to keep us safe.

Our mom finally married a guy when I was 12. They got married, he shipped out to Okinawa, and was gone for two years. Again my brother had to assume responsibility for the household. It was at this time we joined the church. It was hard for him. We were the only family that were like us. He struggled to fit in and most of the time he was not accepted and became the joke they all had fun with. It was sad to see him struggle. That's why when he talks about the high school years there is not much talk of church friends. They were mean, and his regular friends didn't make the judgements that came from church members.

All in all he found his way. He was the man of our house. He grew up, took his "job" seriously and made sure that we had our needs met. I admire him and will never ever be able to repay him for the contribution he made to all of us. The sacrifices he made seen and unseen were great. I will always be grateful he was my big brother.

Reading, reading and more reading

I cannot remember a time that the boy didn't have a book in his hand. I think I already mentioned the medical books we read as children. They were my mothers' from nursing school. He taught himself to read at three and my mom discovered it because he asked her what a fallow-pean (his pronounciation at three) tube was? She asked him where he got that word and he responded in the book. Which book, this one. It was on human anatomy.

That was just the beginning. He read everything. If it wasn't nailed down, he was reading it. I remember going through the Dick and Jane books in a couple of afternoons with him. He read encyclopedias! Comic books. Everything. And then he discovered those awful books. Those ones that boys read. Not those kind! Come on! This is not a full disclosure blog. Sorry. to mislead your imagination. The book/magazine I'm talking about was MAD magazine. He was hooked on them. I swear he could repeat every passage. Spy vs Spy. Those fold-ins! The back cover would be folded over itself to reveal this months message. Then there was the ever challenging Don Martin. I swear Mr. Martin contributed more sound effects to the ever growing vocal library that was my brother. Glork! Gloop, gloop, gloop. etc. He and his friend Steve would race to the Red and White to pick up the latest copy and they would spend the better part of a day laughing and joking about that silly magazine.

It was the beginning of the division between he and I . I had Seventeen and he had MAD. I knew guys were wierd and he confirmed it with reading that magazine. However, there were times, when I would pick up a copy to see what was so intriguing between the pages. Some was funny, other stuff just dumb. Kind of like the Three Stooges. Now don't get me started on them!

Christmas Past

Christmas was always a fun place as my brother and I grew up. Even in a house filled with chaos, my mother seemed to be able to pull all her resources together and do Christmas correctly. We would pile around the tree on Christmas morning, read the chapters in Luke and discuss the Christmas story. We would then sing happy birthday to Jesus. We did that for several years. Then each of us had to perform, share our talent was the way mom put it. My brother would always sing, or tell a joke or two.

My best memory as a tiny girl was the christmas on C street in San Diego. Mom was working p.m.s meaning she went to work at about 2:30 in the afternoon and then get off at midnight. She insisted the we not arise for the hullabaloo that was Christmas morning until 6 a.m. Her instructions were implicit. Well, brother and I woked up (we really never ever went to sleep) at 4 a.m. We tried to convince her to get up and she said she had made a rule and we would go back to bed until 6!

Silly her. We did not go back to bed. However, as each of us didn't want to spoil surpises, we did not go to the living room. No way, were we going to take that simple pleasure from her. So instead we went into the bathroom, armed with the clock from our room, and waited until 6 a.m. We giggled and chuckled together for two hours. He told me great stories of being a big third grader, how he looked forward to being able to be a crossing guard the next school year. He joked with me about the boy that chased me home every day. I thought it was creepy and he just laughed.

Then all of a sudden whamo bammo! It was six a.m.! We ran and roused the little girls ( my younger sisters were always referred to as the little girls) and then went screaming (literally) into our mother's room. Startled by the screaming she jumped and then reality hit her. It was 6 a.m. She resigned herself to her fate and got up asking that we wait for a minute until she called us in. We all waited in anticipation. It was sheer delight. She called us forth and we marched in like little soldiers to see what Santa had left. It had been a good year. A Vacu-form and a creepy crawler set for the brother. Actually the vacuform was for the family. Then a pile of barbies and clothes there for me. The little girls got items appropriate for them but I have no idea what exactly they received. My mountain of clothers were great.

We wasted no time in breaking out the creepy crawler set. It was amazingly cool. You could make spiders and bigs and worms! The brother was in Heaven.