Same Games, Different Millennium

My middle brother, who is closest in age to me, was in town from NC -- just for dinner -- last week. It was awesome to see him, albeit briefly. The strange thing is that, now that I have two little boys, I feel like I’m reliving much of my childhood with him. I can still hear him badgering me to stay in the lines as I sit on the floor at night coloring robots and racecars. And he and I played endless games of “pig” (i.e., basketball) and Battleship: two things I’ve been doing a lot lately. But finally, at least for now, I have the advantage. “Mama, you’re really good at basketball.” Yep, and I’ll take on any five-year-old who dares me.

Like him, my boys are nascent drummers and both are even sporting the same, short, military haircut that he modeled in the 60s; they’re just lacking the Buddy Holly, thick, black-framed glasses to complete the look.

I wonder, however, if either of my kids will get his bizarre sense of humor. He once told me that we went to private school because we were mentally challenged. “Haven’t you ever noticed it says ‘SLOW Children’ right where the buses park?” Nice.

My girlfriends loved him because he used to make Mickey Mouse-shaped pancakes for us during sleepovers. This was after he would wake us up just to “make sure we were sleeping okay.”

He and I were the ones who rode in the back of station wagon together, facing backwards, on every family trip. Then, when he learned to drive, he would purposely hit every bump on the road if I was applying mascara in the passenger seat. He later taught me how to drive.

Because of my brother, my heart now aches when I witness kids in the neighborhood not wanting to play with the younger kids -- not because the little ones feel left out but rather because it must be such a huge drag for the older kids when they are forced to include them. My mom always strong-armed my brother to let me tag along with him and his friends even though I am a girl and four years younger. And then he would get in BIG trouble when his friends would ditch me. Especially when I got home first and promptly told my mom (like the time I made the perilous journey back from the next town over, sans supervision, along the train tracks). D'oh!

It's hard to believe it's been over thirty years since we hung out as kids. It feels like only yesterday.