My Brother’s Day

My enthusiasm at meeting you that day fifty-two years ago was dimmed by the fact that I was in trouble. It was the dead of winter and the coal burning stove in the corner of the living room was keeping the little house on Coleman Hill warm and toasty. The cat looked so cold outside and I didn’t see any harm in letting her warm up behind the stove. Unfortunately, she chose to relieve herself there and the warm air quickly spread the acrid odor through the house. My Aunt Helen was visibly upset with me, having spent the day readying the house for your arrival.

The ambulance pulled up outside the house and Mother emerged holding a lumpy bundle. I seem to recall a lot of bustling activity getting you both in and settled, but finally I was allowed to approach the bed to greet Mother. She reached out to hug me and at the same time let me know she had heard about the unfortunate incident with the cat. Nothing was allowed to mar the happy occasion, however, and no more was said.

I was in wonder of you, but rather disappointed that you didn’t seem to notice me at all. I was concerned because your eyes were crossed and you couldn’t hold your head up, though I was quickly assured this was normal for a newborn. I was allowed to hold you briefly later that day and I was forever changed. I had a baby brother…I was a sister now.

Time went by and our family moved to Chicago. Very often, my duty was to watch you so that you could play outside the apartment building where we lived. I’m sure the memories of days in the park with Daddy live only with me. You were much too young to recall and Daddy’s gone now. I have a picture of you running and laughing with a bunched up bouquet of dandelions in your hand. You look so free and happy. Daddy would often stick his hand outside the window of the car and bang his wedding ring on the roof, pretending there was some problem with the car. He’d pull over – always just beside the ice-cream cart. I knew the game, but always played along anyway. Those were good times.

Later, on Claremont Avenue, we learned to live mostly without Daddy – he seemed to come and go a lot. But we grew and played, laughed and went to school, had friends and fought…like children all over the world since the beginning of time. Our baby sister had come into the world shortly before Claremont and added a new dimension to our lives. Remember Mrs. Waldrop? Poor woman. She was hired as housekeeper and babysitter, but didn’t stand a chance with us. As I recall, she didn’t last long and you were the major cause of her departure. Your recollection is probably different. There were the Kings and the Arringtons, Jere Wells…….

During my teen years I probably saw you as more of an annoyance than anything else. I’ve always been a bit self-conscious about my nose and you lost no opportunity to pontificate on its size to anyone and everyone who would listen. Especially any unsuspecting date who appeared at the door to pick me up. I used to be mortified, but now it just seems funny.

You grew into a fine man and have given all of your family much to be proud of. You married your longtime sweetheart and the two of you made a good life for yourselves and for your children. You grabbed the opportunities which came your way and took them to the ultimate and you are well known and respected in your community. I’ve always loved your sense of humor and my husband enjoys being with you almost more than anyone else he knows.

I’ve missed you more times than you would think and wished we were closer, both geographically and emotionally. I wish now that I had taken the time over the years to make sure you knew how important you have always been to me. I’m trying to tell you now, but feel I’m falling very short. I hope somehow you will pick up the love and depth of feeling behind these feeble words. Thank you for being such a rich part of the fabric of my life.

I celebrate today because it is yours. Happy Birthday Mike.

Your Sister

January 31, 2002