Haven’t we all had those car rides with our kids after they’re let out of school where the conversation about their day has serious vibes of one participant trying out their Fifth Amendment rights or acting like they’re a prisoner being interrogated under the regime of the Geneva Convention?
Welcome to my world! 😉
But every now and then, that awfully cute Domestic TerroristTM #3 occupying the co-pilot’s seat comes at me with actual conversation that ends up having a very surprising twist.
Today was one of those days where we ended up talking about siblings and specifically sibling rivalry.
Whilst I’ve certainly observed the concept and execution of sibling rivalry plenty of times through the years with my own brother and sister and their customary interactions and the occasional squabbles and demands for attention that would break out between one or more of my three Domestic TerroristsTM, I truly can’t remember an instance of actually personally experiencing sibling rivalry.
If I were to posit the primary reason for this, it’d have to be in the dramatic difference in age between us as I’m 11.5 years older than my brother Benjamin and 15.5 years older than my sister Meghann.
It wasn’t like I didn’t ask for them to be closer to my age. In a day that will live in infamy in the halls of Fayetteville Technical Institute as it was then known, silly four year-old me made it very clear to my mother and her study partner that I’d really like them to get me a sister for Christmas.
If my mother could have melted through the floor and all the way to China, she probably would have.
My future stepfather, on the other hand, was never one to be at a loss of words no matter how shocking the situation. Thinking very quickly on his feet with that customary quick wit of his, he pointed out that Christmas was a lot closer than it normally takes for a baby to come round after that gestation thing.
“That’s OK…my birthday’s in May!”
The look on Lee’s face was absolutely priceless…here his argument had just gotten skewered by a *FOUR YEAR-OLD* and it’s honestly one of the few times I would ever know him to be stunned into actual speechlessness. He’d eventually mumble something along the lines of “let me see what I can do and get back to you on that” but somehow I just knew he would be the one who would help pull off Operation Get Me A Sister Now.
It would take a few tumultuous years involving a very nasty separation and divorce followed by even worse custody hearings and at least one failed attempt that I know of but about 7-8 years later on the last Halloween I ever went out in fancy dress to trick-or-treat when I’d come back to our house on Ft Sam Houston just in time to pick up the upstairs phone and find out that I had a new baby brother at the hospital in Pinehurst.
Four years later, I’d learn that Lee was capable of following his original instructions and making good on giving me the sister I’d asked for all those years before even though everyone was warning all of us what the first baby girl born on either side for decades would really mean.
Anyway, for there to be true rivalry, there really has to be some measure of competition and I never really saw them as competitors per se as we had dramatically different interests through the years and they never really saw me as a competitor as I was the big brother who would occasionally come swanning in for a visit and then I’d be off again to wherever Dad was living or eventually university.
The only time I had a really sustained time living with either of them was a two year period starting about a year after Ben was born where Dad was stationed in Europe on a mandatory overseas tour I was not allowed to go with him.
At that time, he was at the point of learning to walk and really getting good at not taking several hints that his introverted and nerdy brother who had zero training for life with a much younger sibling was rather into this concept called privacy. Not that I’d ever known much privacy up to that point because one of the hallmarks of living on a military base or in a majority military family neighbourhood is that everyone knows everything about everyone else and privacy is often just a dream and rarely the reality of the military family life.
I had a bed in my bedroom but I rarely used it. My preferred hang-out spot was in a cave with a couple of bean bag chairs under a 4’x8′ sheet of plywood with a rather intricate model HO train set and all of the buildings and props that was supported by two cinder block bookcases on either side.
I had an electric lantern and all of the books I loved to read and would happily be in my own world in my lair when the door would open and there would be Ben being all “play with me!”.
I can look back upon it now and laugh but at the time poor Ben would be encouraged to be somewhere else with a invitation to bugger off delivered with a bit of a snarl.
It wasn’t so much rivalry as annoying to a teenager who just didn’t know any better and certainly didn’t have any proper training on how to be a big brother.
By the time Meghann came along, I’d already moved on with my father to his final posting in Jackson MS (ugh!) and well, little sisters are truly special in ways that most people just can’t imagine.
Through the years, I’d usually end up being a spectator watching Ben and Meghann going at it with each other as there was definitely more than a little rivalry between them. OK, let’s be honest…sometimes it was like watching cats and dogs and it being on like Donkey Kong between them until one or both of them would finally squawk and then it was time to be the linesman coming in to break up the fight.
But as much as they fought each other through those years, every now and then you’d be treated to an amazing sight should someone have the temerity to mess with either one of them.
All of a sudden you’d see these two mortal enemies standing back-to-back with their swords at the ready to dispatch the miscreant who dared to interrupt the two of them having fun having their little spat. Neither of them would ever countenance someone else messing with their sibling and woe be unto the ones who were dumb enough to try.
As soon as the imbecile who interrupted their fight had been encouraged to live longer by being somewhere else actually took the hint, then it was back to the two of them having their fun.
Through the years, they’ve never ceased to amaze me with just how much they’ve looked out for each other through the happy times and especially during the times of strife and life happening to us all.
History will have to judge how well I rated on the big brother scale to them but there isn’t a number big enough that can adequately describe the love that I’ve had for my brother and sister and how proud I am of them charting their own course and living life on their terms.
I know there may be someone out there reading this and wanting so desperately to put “step” or “half” in front of the word brother or sister because I don’t share a father with them and I’ve just got one piece of advice on that:
DON’T.
Whilst I’m capable of being quick to anger (though I’ve certainly gotten better about that with age and experience), there’s only a few times in my life that I can point to where I was moved to a rage so incandescent that the person who provoked those intense feelings quickly figured out they’d be better served to offer up prayers to whatever gods might listen to them.
The lawyer who tried to “correct” me when I called them my brother and sister by suggesting they were actually half-brother and half-sister in the eyes of the law is certainly one of those times.
I don’t even remember why we were in that buffoon’s office but I remember very clearly the chill that very quickly permeated the room as I turned to look upon him with a glare he’d likely never forget for the rest of his days.
Anyone who knows me at all knows that if I’m yelling or carrying on cranky loudly, it’s mere performance art to get the other person’s attention as the rather unfortunate solicitor from Spectrum found out when he disturbed the peace of this house twice in one day.
When I am truly angry to the point where I’m literally seeing red and going through which of the many techniques I learned through the years and ranking them on how protracted and painful I wish it to be for the one who provoked me so, I actually get much quieter and speak in a very measured tone and every word is chosen with exquisite care to convey the exact meaning I wish.
It’s not the usual American way of showing anger and it tends to confuse the other person which is exactly what I want. So imagine that quiet voice that told that lawyer this:
“I am *NOT* Solomon. I do not love only half of my brother and sister. I love all of them.
You. Will. Not. Ever. Refer. To. Them. That. Way. In. My. Presence. Ever. Again.
Have. I. Made. Myself. Crystal. Clear?”
That lawyer may not have admitted to feeling fear in that moment had he been placed under oath but that doesn’t matter. I could most certainly see the fear in his eyes and he was at least smart enough not to make that mistake again.
I was deadly serious about it that day and I am no less serious about it now. They are my brother and sister.
Full stop.
I may not have had the rivalry with them through the years but I don’t think I’m really missing out on anything either. They’ve always loved me through the years and in ways they may never know, they have done far more for me than I reckon I’ve ever done for them.