Changes

Growing up, my family consisted of a mom, a dad, five sisters, and finally, from out of the blue, a brother. The appearance of this dark-haired kid was a thrill to me. I always loved the little ones! And the fact that he was a male, plopped into the laps of five little girls, made things even more interesting.

My brother Jonathan came on the scene when I was around 8 or 9. He now hovers around six and a half feet, altitudinally, and he was never small; but I carried him around on my hip until his feet nearly dragged on the ground.

The very novelty of having a boy around has given me vivid memories of him. Like in my Catholic grade school, we had Hamburger Day every few months. Mom was the Hamburger Lady, and she’d bring my brother Jon to the school along with the boxes of burgers and orange drinks. She’d send him to my classroom and we’d eat our squishy burgers squeezed into my desk chair. He was my living, breathing show-and-tell.

I also remember sitting on the bottom bunk in our red, white and blue bedroom and teaching him to tie his shoes.  I don’t think that was successful, probably because I was overenthusiastic and he was only three years old and not the most dexterous kind in the house. And I remember a car trip when he was getting over the chicken pox; in the days before seatbelts, he would lay himself across our laps and have his sisters take turns counting his chicken pox scabs.  I think it distracted him from the itch.

My most vivid memory is one from which I believe he still carries a scar – I dropped a little dish full of melted sugar on his bare foot.  For heaven’s sake, who ever thought a cotton candy machine was a good idea for a kid? I still cringe at the memory, at the same time remembering the awe I felt for how very very widely he could open his mouth to cry.

With four sisters, the appearance of a little brother was a novelty.  I’m sure I could come up with a list of memories for each sister as well, but it’s possible I’d mix up who was where, and when. They all looked alike. And they couldn’t get their mouths around a doorknob.

Personal to Jon:  I swear, I wrote this up on Thursday, well before our Jon-centric family conversation on Sunday!!