Happy birthday to my sister Jennifer. From time to time someone will say or do something that seems to indicate an underlying perspective on Jenny and me that positions me as her senior. This is not a negative thing at all; it is quite common for second-born boys to exhibit first-born traits or to perform many of the functions of a first-born. Nor is this perspective on us entirely unfounded. I have always seen myself as a protector to both of my sisters (sometimes behaving like an over-aggressive viper hatchling—sorry for that, Jenny). However my own perspective on this positioning has never really been articulated. The reality is that Jenny is not just my older sister, she is my big sister. I have always felt this way. I admired the accuracy and detail of her drawings on that yellow kitchen table at Grandmas and Grandpas, her quick wit (quicker than my own, if you care to believe it—it is natural to me and those who know us well), the power of her creativity (my childhood was a series of epic fantasies thanks to her, for inventing such theatrical scenarios as the The Mystical Magical Marvelous Things That Can Happen in Quicksand, to the perennial and mystical Rackensmacker (for the eventual verbalized doubt about which she harshly shamed me), to the action-packed Shields Up/Shields Down, to MUSCLE men, to Barbies and My Little Ponies (not ashamed—ok maybe a little), to the beloved neighborhood classic Village, and others), to her generosity (from her childhood she would habitually put others first and for some reason just two small anecdotes comes to mind, which are that I believe she paid for the bulk of my letterman jacket, and she lent me her credit card (!) to take my prom date to dinner once), etc. etc.—I could easily go on. She advised me about junior high, encouraging me to visit campus in advance and find my classrooms so that I wouldnt be lost on the first day of school. She advised me about girls, helping me to interpret the ever-mixed signals every young boy mercilessly receives from every young girl upon whom he develops a crush. She explained scientific concepts to me, for some reason electricity stands out in my mind. And politics (although not as good as School House Rock, a phenomenon I did not learn about until Jonathan Charles Wright deployed a YouTube video in mockery of one of my blog posts—too late to reference while preparing for tests in high school and college). Even how to get things out of Mom and Dad (if charm fails, nag). My sisters room, especially once furnished with a white metal bunkbed, gave me this feeling inside that I can only describe as a tame excitement—kind of cold, but somehow... somehow warm too. I wish there were a single term for it. Right through my chest. Inexplicably there was a black metal (wood-burning stove?) in the corner atop a round stage of brickwork in my sisters room. We grew up with that. Never thought twice. Can you imagine? Anyway my sister also read to me. One book that stands out is The Silver Chair. I can still remember lines from it and hear them in her voice in my head. Another was A Wrinkle in Time. It was comforting and I felt loved. I felt like a little brother. And if I were to go on you might begin to get a sense about how and why I see her as my big sister. She is superior to me in most respects and I have a lifetime of looking up to her and feeling nurtured by her, despite those times that we fought (and boy did we!). It is true that I feel like a protector to both of my sisters (despite the distance) and that I am taller, etc. But my own perspective on Jenny is as an adoring little brother, looking up. Happy birthday, Sister.
Posted on: Tue, 07 Oct 2014 05:02:32 +0000
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