I don't talk about my siblings much, I really don't. I was raised as the youngest child in a family with four children. I'm not saying I was the spoiled rotten baby, but yeah, I may have been the spoiled rotten baby. In hindsight, I can see that could have been a real possibility. It wasn't as if we had money growing up and I was spoiled in that sense; God knows we were dirt poor. But maybe I got away with more, or maybe I didn't get the evil eye as much as "they" did.
I won't name my sisters but my brother's name is Michael. He won't mind me telling you a little about him. He's just such a strange and often over-the-top character; one that if I wrote him into one of my books folks would think I was stretching the boundaries, and that my creative license had just about reached its limits. He's not normal by any means, way, or form. He's out there. He's an open book -- even if you want him to close the cover!
Tonight I decided to call my only brother; he's one year and two months older than me. He is one year and three months younger than our sister "L" and she is exactly one year and 25 days younger than our oldest sister "A". You can see that Mom and Dad were quite busy, and we gave them as much love and trouble as you can possibly imagine. I called my brother to see how he was doing and he didn't need much goading to tell me exactly how he was; he could out-talk any woman I've ever met.
When I say there are differences I'll start with the obvious ones. I went to college and earned a Ph.D. where my brother decided the 11th grade was just about all of the education he would ever need. He was a mechanic; worked with his hands and didn't need books or structure to get the money he needed to pay for his own place and to make a living. We are different in our politics but not to the extent that I could say he's a lunatic; he's just more fundamentally conservative than I am. He's not one to jump in his truck and join the party to protest, nothing like that, but he's stereotypical in some ways when you think of the rural-living sort of hillbilly who holes up in a lost cabin in the backwoods with his guns, his dogs, and extra canned goods. You know, the type to shoot out the "O" of a stop sign. I don't do that.
We differ in our means of entertainment. He loves watching television; I can't stand it. He loves getting online and pretending to be someone he's not so he can get up and under the skin of someone who tries to scam men for money. He plays the game intensely and will keep it up for weeks before he pulls them out onto the virtual carpet to out the person for who and what they are. I am so not into drama of any kind. I just don't have time for it.
He asked me how I would keep myself entertained if I didn't watch television. I told him I listen to my preacher once a day or almost every day, and I read books and I write books. I told him I create characters in my head and allow them to have full conversations so I can determine what they will do or say in the next book; this fascinated him. He wanted to know if that was normal...you know, to pretend you're talking to make-believe people in your head. Normal? Who knows. It's how I write. I create the characters and then let them go - - let them live.
When I told him I wrote books he wanted to know if I ever thought about putting them in print. I paused...I literally stopped talking...I was that dumbfounded. "Michael...I write books. I've written and published about thirteen so far. I mean, when I say I write books, I mean, there are books out there with my name on them. I'm the author. They are on Amazon, they are for sale." He was quiet for a second, then said very solemnly..."Well, I mean, like a book book, one you can hold?" I guess I know what I have to do now. I have to order a copy of each of my 13 books and send them to him - - except I don't know how he would feel about reading sex scenes written by his kid sister. That could be disturbing.
We talked about his car, the one he had in high school. It was a 1970 Ford Torino. I drove VW Beetle Bugs. He drove muscle cars. I went to Hollywood to write. He hung out in our town. I guess we just never thought about being close. None of my siblings are close to one another; it's sad really, but the truth. We don't do "family" things; we stopped basically when my father passed. We just don't want to make the effort. That's another thing that concerned me when I had kids, I raised them to be close. My three are still much much closer than I ever was with my own sisters or brother. That makes me smile.
I guess I'm just saying it's OK to be odd, different, out of touch with family, or not interested in being a part of a family where you don't feel needed, wanted, loved, or united. I love my sisters and I love my brother, but we're not friends and if we weren't related I'd never even think of them. I say that, I will always think of my brother; he's crazy as a loon yes, but I do think of him and pray for him. He never asked for the trouble in his life, he was a "victim" of circumstance, never knowing when to walk away from toxic people who pulled at him constantly. I saw those types and either casually walked away, or ran like hell to put the distance between us.
Funny, isn't it? We were both born to the same parents and lived in the same house for over two decades, but we just couldn't be more different in so many ways. At least, and I can say this about all of my mother's children, we all love Jesus, and we know how the story ends. (We didn't cheat and read the back of the Book - - it was purposely taught to us.) For that, I am very grateful.
Reuben and Laura. Photo Credit: Me
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