This weekend I had the opportunity to spend some time with my big brother. He and his lovely wife came down to go to a Rangers game with my beautiful bride and me. It was a wonderful time and the only thing better than the ball game was the company.
J.P. (my brother) is 7 years older than I am. You see my folks always wanted me, but they kinda thought I wouldn't be coming and then 7 years later, I arrive on the scene. I wasn't a "mistake", but rather a "surprise". I can live with that. One of the earliest pictures there is of me is my brother in the yard, with me in his lap and a football resting on the blob of flesh that I was back then. I love that picture. My brother was excited to have me in his world and that picture proves it. Which is good, because many of my childhood memories, don't line up with that picture.
As you can imagine, a brother 7 years younger can quite potentially cramp your style and not be able to offer much to you or your friends, and I was no different. Most of the memories that my brother and I reminisce about have to do with one of us tormenting the other. Like the time my brother, in front of his friends, was shooting a bb gun at a tree. He told me he thought a bb stuck in the tree and for me to go look. As I, just wanting to be a part of the action, run over to check the tree, I am quickly made aware of the trap I was lured into as my bro shot me in the butt with a bb. The crazy thing is the bb, actually embedded into my butt. I can vividly remember my mom doing minor surgery on me on the dining room table to remove the bb. Brothers...
Or the time that JP and my cousin held me down and tickled me till I peed my pants. Or the time he gave me such a wedgie in our front yard that the elastic of my tighty whities ripped off and he pulled it off over my head. I think he might have worn the elastic as a headband for the rest of the day as a symbol of his victory. Brothers...
I was no saint either though. I remember the time he and my cousin were playing darts. This was back in the day when darts were "real" with metal tips. They wouldn't let me play and I REALLY wanted to play. I can't remember the exact order of events, but I can tell you that I hit my brother in the middle of his back with a dart and it stuck. And as it was in the middle of his back, he was not able to get it himself. I probably got in trouble for that. Brothers...
Or the time I accidentally threw a water balloon into the open window of his parked truck. Or the time he was driving home from work and I was playing basketball with my neighbor and decided to flip him off. If there's one piece of advice I can give you from this blog it's this. Do NOT flip JP off. He's not a fan. I really can't stress this more. Brothers...
These are the stories that my family shares when we get together, and all have been told dozens of times. Most of us can recite them in our sleep, yet they always entertain. They always work. I think they work because of the love that my brother and I so easily share for each other now. Yeah, I know, not a "manly" think to admit, but it's true.
For me, I think our relationship REALLY changed when my Father passed away. I'm certain we would have come around to each other without my Dad dying, but I think that event really brought us together. I remember going to my Dad's office and having to clean it out with my brother. We suddenly were feeling the same pain and loss at the same time, while both wanting to also shelter and take care of my Mom as best we could. Obviously he was better equipped for this than I who was still fairly young, but at least we had a common goal. Brothers...
I can safely say that we talk more now than we ever have. One of us calling the other once or twice a week and chatting on the way home. He giving me advice about being a first time dad. Me giving him advice about why Styx will always be better than REO Speedwagon. The advice we give each other may not be equal in terms of weight, but I love that he asks my opinion on things. Makes me feel like I've arrived in some way.
You see, outside of my Dad, I can't think of a better role model on what it looks like to be a husband, father, son, than my brother. It used to drive me absolutely nuts. Growing up in a small town, I would often have the same teachers that he had. Of course I would always hear about how great a student JP was. How well behaved and alert. The grades he made. It was a big shadow that I dealt with and it drove me nuts. But as I get older, I realize that there is no other shadow I'd rather be in. At the end of the day, the shadow is there because of the man my brother was/is and I love him for who he is.
Some people have shadows they try to escape from parents or siblings because those shadows are negative and they are trying to prove that just because their parent or sibling did bad things, they are not bad themselves. I finally realize that I have a good shadow. It's the shadow of a man who has consistently done right by his family and friends. Shadows can sometimes be a good thing.
We are way different. My life has not been a carbon copy of his, nor would I want it to be. There are many things that he is passionate about that hold little interest for me. And I'm pretty sure the pleasure in owning every Judas Priest album ever holds less than no interest for him. It doesn't matter. It's bigger than that. It's about how he looks at life. It's about how he treats his family. It's about the priorities he makes. It's about the kindness he shows others. Those are things that I try to emulate. My brother is awesome.
So Saturday night, we are sitting at the baseball game and I can't help but think about darts in backs, ripped underwear, stray water balloons, and the knowledge that it's not okay to flip my brother off. I'm happy to report that none of those things happened this weekend. In fact, not a ton was said between he and I during the game. But when you've lived all of those experiences together, I suppose you don't always need to communicate through words. It was enough to sit with him and enjoy the evening, our wives and the brotherhood that continues to grow stronger. I love my "big" brother.
