I have one brother (just turned 41) and I have 5 younger sisters (38, 37, 36, 35 and 31)
There are more stories about them than I remember....and what's even more fun is hearing three of us tell the same story.....because you would swear it was three DIFFERENT stories
Anyway, to choose one sibling to write about is a challenge for me....there are just too many stories and siblings to choose from
If I were to write about my brother, it would probably be about the time he talked me off the ledge when I was let go from a job and did not know what to do...or about the time he tried to pick up on the backup singer from Billy Joel's band and dumped his drink on her...and how we took my 16 year old sister to a bar...or it would be about how as little kids we were best friends and went fishing in the ditch. Or, I could tell you how funny he is and what a great storyteller he is...and how he teases the bejeezus out of you until you want to punch him in the nose...but he's your big brother so you try to take it....Or I could write about how I admire the man, the husband, the Dad he's become......
If I were to write about sister #1, it might be about her Abbott Rabbit that she loved so dearly...or about her as a basketball player in high school and how her stepping on the court would scare the shit out of our opponents (she was a great player). I may write about the time she took me shopping after I lost a bunch of weight and she was so proud of me....and made me proud of myself. I might write about how hard it was for me to watch her struggle in college...how I watched her not cave in to peer pressure as she remained true to herself, to her inner being....though at time I wanted to hit her in the head and tell her to just "play by the rules" ....but she did what she wanted, lived how she wanted and did not give a toss about what we thought. She's brazen and brave and at times her fortitude overwhelms me.
If I picked sister #2 I'd probably write about her love of Michael Jackson and ET when we were kids. She even had a Michael Jackson doll. She was the quiet one...and the one who dared to get a tattoo and listened to hair bands. I could write about how she was always saving animals and almost got kicked out of her dorm in college because she was harboring a stray dog. And then there was the Christmas where I thought I could be crafty and she stayed up all night with me sewing stupid letter pillows...but we laughed a lot. She went to culinary school and is a fantastic cook but she never brags...and then one day she decided she wanted to be a teacher...so she went back to school and now she is a teacher...and I am so proud of her for doing that and wish I had the courage and gumption to follow my heart as she did. I could write about how as we've gotten older, I've come to appreciate and understand her more.....I love what maturity does for your relationship with someone....
Sister #3 is that sister who you secretly want to be like but are far too conservative to actually be....so I could write about how she can seem to talk about anything....art, music, politics, fashion, movies....I'm guessing she learned all this in the seven years it took her to finish college.....I could write about that too. She dresses and acts just as she wants and does not give a damn about the judgment anyone is passing on her. If she wants to do something or go somewhere, she does it and that is one of the things I admire and envy about her. Or, I could write about how as a baby, she was so squishy and pudgy and lovable...and was just the sweetest little kid....there was no way you could look at her as a kid and not grin.......everybody loved her and she was always Uncle Michael's favorite (and boy didn't that piss off She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named) And then there was the time a seagull pooped on her
Sister #4, sister #4.....she'll tell you she's my favorite and I'll let her get away with it. When she was a kid, she had crazy hair and was a little urban gorilla....she was an imp to the nth degree and never sat still. I could write about how she had this head of beautiful blond hair that used to turn green when she went in the pool so we called her Mildew......oh how we had terrible names for one another. And then there was the time she took a pair of scissors to said beautiful head of hair and gave herself a haircut...might have been more traumatic for my mother than her. There was the time I called her hysterical because Princess Diane died....and the time I called her declaring from now on, through my tears and wails of sorrow and pain, I would only eat Skippy Peanut Butter because I had just watched the Annette Funicello Story and was so distraught about it...and she never made fun of me, no not once....she actually bought me a Princess Di magnet which to this day, is still on my refrigerator and makes me smile and think of her...and when Wills and Kate got married, we watched it together even though we were 250 miles apart....
The youngest sister, #5......so much to write about her.....like when as a toddler, she got hold of the container of marshmallow fluff and covered herself in it. Or how she used to climb into the laundry basket and fall asleep. I could write about her Cabbage Patch Doll, her stuffed Le Mutt, how she used to climb into bed with me. There was the time I chaperoned her class trip to the State House (I was in college). That was the same summer I was at her softball game and her two front teeth got knocked out of her mouth.....Then there was the time she got stung by multiple bees and my parents told her to sleep it off...only to arrive at the ER in the middle of the night because turns out, she's allergic to bee stings. Or the time Mum forgot her birthday...or the trips we took home together while she was in college, or the summer she lived with me and we ate pizza and cheesy poofs while sitting out front drinking beer ripping on the neighbors. By far, my favorite is the time I asked her (and our families and friends) to write a letter to the immigration office on behalf of Sean as we were applying for his green card after we got married. She responds in an email as follows:
Count me in -- should the letter be handwritten or typed?
Should I talk about the Mii's? Or just stick to the basics..."It's legit Officer of Citizenship, I know my sister - she hates having a roommate, so she wouldn't just room with anyone. Also, she's quite conservative if you know what I mean...believe you me, she would be first in line to have the dude deported if he was an illegal."
For real -- how in depth should it be? Is there any chance I will be arrested or implicated in anything illegal in nature?
Little punk...but she wrote a beautiful letter on our behalf (everyone did actually) and Sean was successful in securing a green card
There are so many stories I could tell...stories about Christmas Eve when we were kids, summer vacations at Camp I Don't Wanna Go Home, trips to the beach, overnights with Grammy and Grampy.......
Some stories would make you laugh so hard you'd hold your side and beg me to stop because it hurts to laugh so hard.
Others would make you cry because of the gesture or because of what someone had to go through. Some might make you mad because even brothers and sisters can be malicious, callous and downright mean.....
But at the end of the day, my favorite story would probably be this:
I have one brother and five sisters...and when I've needed one or all of them, when I've asked, they've always been there for me, for one another and for our parents
Maria the Mum