I am the third of four children.
I have three brothers - and in the order of things, I'm number three of our four-pack.
You can only imagine the stories being the only girl in a pack of boys. Minimal advantage - mostly, and often, I felt shorted. These brothers of mine always got to go and do the coolest things with the best people.
One Christmas, I remember our grandparents came in from New Mexico to Midland, Texas and they had decked out our tree with ones and fives and various green backs. The four of us walked in wowed... and then it was pointed out to me that the green hanging from the tree was only for the boys... I had the wrapped gift in the corner.
It was a silver vanity set. I felt robbed. (Though, older now, I still have pieces of this set... so, really, who was robbed...)
Oh sure, there are the stereotypes among us.
We have the oldest - who was punished or responsible for the actions of the rest of us. The second sibling, who our grandmother favored because she was convinced he was somehow slighted for the spacing of his birth. The third child, the only girl - and then the baby, another boy - the runt.
We made quite a tribe.
The first three, well, we each have fire-cracker tempers - likely, the youngest of us has the same - but I've always viewed our youngest brother differently.
Lots of stories involved in and out of these ribbons of information - loss, pain and more - there are pieces that are meant for later recount... but as I was working in the kitchen tonight - I was drawn to a story involving my youngest sibling...
All four of us ended up in a children's home - I was separated from my brothers - something that left me a bit screwy... and somewhere in the on and off of the family who were close enough to be involved - my little brother and I ended up living together again with our mother...
There are many stories here - many other stories that trail elsewhere ... but it wasn't until a recent visit from this brother that I found myself aware of recalled truths...
... It was less than a year ago - maybe the spring of 2014 - that he and his family visited my home in Texas after a long (too long) hiatus on his part...
His oldest son made a comment about not having some type of technology device and my little brother looked at him and said, "Oh, really - you're worried about a phone? How about this? How about you go hungry and live on Bisquick, onions and mustard for awhile? How about you worry about stuff like that?"
I sat there - in my home, chilled and awed - and I simply asked, "You remember that?"
...
Ever see then movie Sling Blade?
Billy Bob Thornton - odd movie - but I'll tell you that when he showed a penchant for mustard, onion and biscuit sandwiches - that made the hairs on my neck stand up - it was a weird memory that wasn't painful - merely wanting.
There was a period of time where my youngest brother and I went hungry. We were way too young and living with our mother. I often reflect that I became a resourceful cook because I experienced this time period - but for a very long period of time... all we had was mustard, onions, and Bisquick in abundance.
We could possibly win a contest for creative cooking of these three items.
Over the years I have wondered if I exaggerated this time period, Lord knows I have a crazy imagination and memory - and I thought maybe I had made this food memory bigger than it was...
Until, John, my little brother, made it real again.
There were a few months where we didn't have milk so miracle whip and water were mixed for boxed mac and cheese. This might be why I dislike miracle whip...
But when John said aloud what I held as a silent truth I felt the air thicken and lessen.
This is not who we are. This is not our mark or manner - but in a very real way - our humanity is made more fragile and aware of what is around us... so...
.. so...
...
What do I draw from this?
Well, first off - I became much closer to John's children - and I was aware that he and I experienced life paths that no one else knew of...
I am fiercely proud of my baby brother, his wife and his two children. Fiercely.
Also, I realize that we can all be greater than any past that attempts to define us. We can get knocked up at 14, run into all kinds of difficulty, only eat Mexican food (Kelly) and still turn out - on the other side - good, well, and functioning people.
...
I still love onions and mustard.
And I am completely proud of these paths that four children took - four children who became amazing adults, parents, and friends.
We kinda' rock.
...
Much love - after another story....
- Simone
I have three brothers - and in the order of things, I'm number three of our four-pack.
You can only imagine the stories being the only girl in a pack of boys. Minimal advantage - mostly, and often, I felt shorted. These brothers of mine always got to go and do the coolest things with the best people.
One Christmas, I remember our grandparents came in from New Mexico to Midland, Texas and they had decked out our tree with ones and fives and various green backs. The four of us walked in wowed... and then it was pointed out to me that the green hanging from the tree was only for the boys... I had the wrapped gift in the corner.
It was a silver vanity set. I felt robbed. (Though, older now, I still have pieces of this set... so, really, who was robbed...)
Oh sure, there are the stereotypes among us.
We have the oldest - who was punished or responsible for the actions of the rest of us. The second sibling, who our grandmother favored because she was convinced he was somehow slighted for the spacing of his birth. The third child, the only girl - and then the baby, another boy - the runt.
We made quite a tribe.
The first three, well, we each have fire-cracker tempers - likely, the youngest of us has the same - but I've always viewed our youngest brother differently.
Lots of stories involved in and out of these ribbons of information - loss, pain and more - there are pieces that are meant for later recount... but as I was working in the kitchen tonight - I was drawn to a story involving my youngest sibling...
All four of us ended up in a children's home - I was separated from my brothers - something that left me a bit screwy... and somewhere in the on and off of the family who were close enough to be involved - my little brother and I ended up living together again with our mother...
There are many stories here - many other stories that trail elsewhere ... but it wasn't until a recent visit from this brother that I found myself aware of recalled truths...
... It was less than a year ago - maybe the spring of 2014 - that he and his family visited my home in Texas after a long (too long) hiatus on his part...
His oldest son made a comment about not having some type of technology device and my little brother looked at him and said, "Oh, really - you're worried about a phone? How about this? How about you go hungry and live on Bisquick, onions and mustard for awhile? How about you worry about stuff like that?"
I sat there - in my home, chilled and awed - and I simply asked, "You remember that?"
...
Ever see then movie Sling Blade?
Billy Bob Thornton - odd movie - but I'll tell you that when he showed a penchant for mustard, onion and biscuit sandwiches - that made the hairs on my neck stand up - it was a weird memory that wasn't painful - merely wanting.
There was a period of time where my youngest brother and I went hungry. We were way too young and living with our mother. I often reflect that I became a resourceful cook because I experienced this time period - but for a very long period of time... all we had was mustard, onions, and Bisquick in abundance.
We could possibly win a contest for creative cooking of these three items.
Over the years I have wondered if I exaggerated this time period, Lord knows I have a crazy imagination and memory - and I thought maybe I had made this food memory bigger than it was...
Until, John, my little brother, made it real again.
There were a few months where we didn't have milk so miracle whip and water were mixed for boxed mac and cheese. This might be why I dislike miracle whip...
But when John said aloud what I held as a silent truth I felt the air thicken and lessen.
This is not who we are. This is not our mark or manner - but in a very real way - our humanity is made more fragile and aware of what is around us... so...
.. so...
...
What do I draw from this?
Well, first off - I became much closer to John's children - and I was aware that he and I experienced life paths that no one else knew of...
I am fiercely proud of my baby brother, his wife and his two children. Fiercely.
Also, I realize that we can all be greater than any past that attempts to define us. We can get knocked up at 14, run into all kinds of difficulty, only eat Mexican food (Kelly) and still turn out - on the other side - good, well, and functioning people.
...
I still love onions and mustard.
And I am completely proud of these paths that four children took - four children who became amazing adults, parents, and friends.
We kinda' rock.
...
Much love - after another story....
- Simone
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