Now Hear This

Today I am announcing to my family that they must bestow upon me oodles of respect, because I am a published columnist. That’s right folks, that Guest Column is published in my hometown paper today. We’ll see how it goes over. It has references to my siblings and me as we grew up, including a quote from my brother when he was four-years-old.

My brother lives with his family and operates his own small business in our hometown. I’m happily anticipating the moment when he kicks my arse because of all the ribbing he may get from that quote in the paper. But it’s cute and he read it before I submitted it, so I’m not going to take any of his guff. Hmmff. I am the big sister, after all.

I remember Grandpa and I going to my great uncle’s house for a visit. In their later life, my grandpa’s siblings, my great aunt and uncle, both of whom were single, lived together. (When asked whether his sister's cooking was good, my great uncle replied, "Ya, you can eat that, but that's not what you call good.") Birth order went Aunt, Uncle, Grandpa. They all came over from Germany in the 20s, with their mother. Their father had died there and my great-grandmother immigrated here with her children to be with family and, like the story of so many other immigrants, for greater opportunities. But, I digress. While my 70-something grandpa and I visited with them, my 80-something aunt was, I swear, talking to my grandpa like he was twelve. I kid you not. My aunt had been married quite young, to a man somewhat older than she was; and lived all her life on a farm under the care (and supervision?) of her husband and his family. She was very sheltered and even after decades, her English was barely understandable to anyone who didn’t know her (and even some of us who did). Yet she spoke to my grandpa, who was much more worldly and involved in the community than she ever had been, as if she knew it all and could teach him a few things. She was the big sister, you see. I knew that after we left Grandpa would grin, shake his head, and say she had no idea what she was talking about!

It doesn’t matter how old we are, we may always be the big sister, the little brother, etc. It just goes with the territory sometimes. Now, in our case, my brother always got away with everything growing up. He, of course, disagrees with that. He absolutely lives to irritate me. You should have been around us during the recent campaign! This is pure fact. I DO know more than my baby brother. You hear that, Jeff?

I’m not afraid of him, don’t worry. Oh, I have stories I could tell you,....

My husband and I are having lamp wars. He maintains that the floor lamp in the den is decorative and deserves a decorative (and dim) bulb. I say that while the lamp is decorative it should be functional, too– meaning I want a light bulb in it that I can read by. The overhead light is too bright. I like the cozy light of the lamp. I put in the bright light bulb and put away the dim and he does just the opposite. You can imagine that chaos that ensues. But we have now reached a bit of a peace agreement. When I replace his bulb with mine, I leave his on the window ledge, hidden behind some picture frames. That way when he wants the decorative lighting, the bulb’s right there for him. He does the same for me. He seems pretty okay with this plan. He even mentioned to my mom that the way we are dealing with The Lamp Conflict demonstrates how far we’ve come in our marriage. (“Oh, you two,...” she sighed). The other night, though, he mentioned that all of this light bulb switching around is messing with the mechanism of the lamp. How long do you think we can hold onto our truce?

I did mention earlier that I’m a Big Sister, right? Have I mentioned that my husband is a Little Brother?