Tuesday, May 31, 2011

The Joy of Bigger Brothers...

Ah, summer. A time of getting the family together and setting out on idyllic family vacations. The memories of packing up the '57 Chevy station wagon with kids, tent, clothes and Coleman stove to head down east to visit grandparents. (That's me perched on my brother's knee. I was probably four. )

It's all coming back to me now: traveling packed between bigger brothers. The joy of being given nuggies, tickled into submission, wrapped in a foul-smelling sleeping bag and being told to eat bugs at rest stops.

The happy-go-lucky life of growing up with big brothers: Indian burns, wedgies, being told to touch my tongue to metal fence posts in winter, and putting on rubber boots filled with pudding. It was a time when being babysat meant long, leisurely hours locked in the bedroom closet (called a "fort").

My brothers used to tell me I came from either the bread man (who's name was Duffy), or from the milkman (who's name was Keith). I knew better, even at that age. Duffy was short, smelled of yeast and had a mass of dark hair on his arms and Keith was portly with very large feet and no chin. No similarities there.

I torture them to this day by constantly reminding them that I am their brother. And I'm much younger than they are. And better looking. Ah, time. The great equalizer.

4 comments:

  1. Very amusing-add sisters and the 'ideas' lists gets longer. My younger sister likes to remind us of all the fun things we entertained her with :-)

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  2. Thanks Karin, having not had any sisters (I was my mother's last hope) I couldn't honestly add this facet. Glad you mentioned this and the fact that your little sister reminds you even today... :o)

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  3. I can add sisters - tho I am sure ali's tales would be nothing but sweet and kindness from those above her in chronological rank... LOL!

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