We fought like cats and dogs, bickering about everything from splitting the bottle of Pepsi to the way I pronounced Po-lice. I teased and tormented that boy mercilessly just for the joy of it. He was intense and focused setting up an entire battle field on our playroom floor oblivious to everyone and everything beyond his plastic army men. I could not resist sneaking up and scaring the bajeebers out of him, causing plastic army men to go flying. I can hardly recount the event without laughing today. I could not stand that little brat; mommy’s favorite. But caring for him was one of my chores. Waking him each morning for school packing his lunch and making sure he got breakfast that included Tang, Instant Breakfast and toast. It was also my job to boss him around. How else was he ever going to turn out right. He became a broken record, “Mom, Shari is bossing me.”
As we got older the fighting often ended up being physical. Walking behind me on our way to school one day he was kicking stones at my feet. He didn’t stop even after my repeated warnings. Finally I swung around and wacked him in the head with my metal lunch box at which time I needed to take off running like HELL. On this day I managed to out run him and find safety at school. The time came when I could not longer out run him and his fist would leave bruises, so I had to get smarter in my torment.
It was all fair in love and war between brother and sister, until we actually needed each other. His mechanical skills proved useful when I ran over a parking block, or numerous other incidents where calling my father might have resulted in loosing my car keys. And a sister with a car was convenient for him at times even if he was a bit nervous about my driving. He tends to exaggerate stories like almost getting hit by an oncoming freight train while I was applying mascara. He had the option of taking the bus to school if he didn’t want to ride with me. But when I got to college, and he was still in high school, it was pretty cool to have a sister with her own apartment and cute girl friends. Then, when I lived in Memphis, it made for a great place to visit and bring friends; Graceland, Mudd Island and Beal Street.
Somewhere along the line he got less annoying and I got more compassionate. I am still bossy and he is still focused on some strange things. But, I think he turned out pretty well, and maybe just a little bit of it is due to his bossy older sister. Sorry for all the terror.
Today, I am glad we are side by side as we navigate through the last days of our father's life.
Love You, Bill
Boy, can I identify with this story! My poor parents wanted to have a little girl and actually kept at it until they got their wish - four boys later! We are all equally loved and held in high regard AND they have a spoiled baby girl. You can imagine what it was like having a house full of bubbling testosterone! The stench of smelly feet must have been incredible! There was ALWAYS something to repair! I remember when the hairbrush went flying through the sliding glass door and the handful of plastic ketchup packages went squirting all over the room onto every wall as wellas the ceiling! Then there was the period when we thought it funny to victimize one of the younger ones. We would strip him bear assed naked. Two would drag him out to the middle of the street while the fourth would lock all the doors but one. It would be a mad dash back to the unlocked door to see who won. I was a high school Senior at the same time that my brother Rick was a Freshman. Poor guy! He got dumped in the ttrash can on the Senior Steps more times than I could count! It's amazing that we even speak to each other as adults. Truth be said, I wouldn't trade my siblings for anything. We have many ideologic difference and live completely different lives from each other yet are the first line of defense we turn to in despair. My sister is usually the first person I call when I'm frightened or hurt. Mom and Dad did a great job in teaching us the importance of family and how to cirlce the wagons when one is attacked. As my own father seems to grow older and weaker with each passing day we are finding solace in each other. It's interesting to see that there is an unspoken understanding that our mutual support is something that doesn't include Mom. She has not been part of the support circle. I suppose that is because she needs a much different type of support from all of us simultaneously. We also draw support from extended family. Our gaggle is quite traditional in that regard. My partner Steven and I just returned from a gathering of about 60 cousins. I think there were 4 of the 5 generations of Romero-Delgado descendents in attendance. It was truly amazing how we not only caught up but we immediately checked in with each other to see if anybody neeeded help in these trying times. La familia! What a blessing from God! If you want to take a peek at my family try going to the "Romero-Delgado gang" group at Facebook.
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