Last night, I wrote about my oldest brother and the times that he tormented me. Okay, I called them lessons but they were torments, and there were many more that happened. However, in a sense of being fair, I must admit that I paid back the torments to an even score or, possibly, more. In a house of four boys, there was always a bit rough housing going on at almost all times. I do find it interesting that the oldest and youngest got into some of the weirdest predicaments. Since I gave you three of his torments, I will reciprocate three of mine.
My brother always had a habit of using his index finger when making a point. Being a true sibling, the point was always being made directly in my face. The finger would be put no less than an inch from my face. As I have mentioned in the past, our family loved to camp. This incident took place on one of those trips.
I cannot remember what the topic of discussion. All I know is that big brother decided that it was one of those times that he was going to drive home his point. Now mind you, I have been told that when I was a little kid, I would eat almost anything. We were sitting around the fire. Something started between the two of us, I cannot say that it was an argument for my brother also just like to tease me a lot. I believe that is chapter 3 in the big brother handbook. So there we were enjoying the fire when the finger started. It waved in front of my face. He stopped. It waved again. Apparently on the third wave, my hunger pains kicked in. My teeth opened wide, my mouth moved forward, and my teeth chomped. They came down hard and didn’t let go. By the time I reopened my jaw, blood had been drawn.
The next thing I knew I had been sent to the tent. I cannot remember my brother being punished at all. Sure he starts it, but I got punished. What was fair about that?
The next story, funny enough, also deals with his fingers. By the time of this story, we lived in my Nana’s house. This is a beautiful, two story colonial. The living room is connected to the dining room by the front hall. The dining room then goes into the kitchen, and then another hall connects the living room. This made for a huge circle. Of course, we used this to do laps for all sorts of things. We really used it when we got into arguments and one started chasing the other to beat the crap out of him.
On the occasion in mind, my oldest brother was chasing and beating on me. Yep. Mom and Dad had gone out somewhere. The old brotherly love had kicked in, and one thing led to another and the chase was on. I did the laps trying to stay ahead of whatever doom lay ahead. During what would become the last lap, my brain kicked and tried to find a way out this. I caught the stairs out the corner of my eye. I knew that they were my path to freedom.
I flashed out of the kitchen into the living room. My arm reached forward and my fingers curled. My body moved into auto mode, I saw the corner separating the living room from the hall. My hand reached, my arm tightened. I ripped myself around and up three stairs. I took the remaining two at a time. My plan didn’t work quite as well as I had planned. Big bro was directly behind me.
I reached the top of the stairs and decided to duplicate my previous move. My brain plotted knowing that the master bedroom was a total 180 from my current direction. My toes hit the top step and my arm curled around. I felt the door frame and used it to catapult me around the corner and change directions. Once in the bedroom, the word trapped came to mind. I turned believing I could get out before he got in. I looked to the door frame and saw his fingers make the same move that my hand had done milliseconds before. I did the only thing I could do to save myself – I slammed the door shut.
The fight came to an end. Not that he wasn’t pissed at me, but because I, once again, had broken skin and caused blood.
The last story that I will share tonight, wellllllllll, it also deals with a finger and blood. I believe I was 13 or 14 at the time. My brother would have been 17 or 18. The time of year was Christmas. My mom worked at the local nursing home in Lewiston. She was the LPN of the wing. This particular Christmas, my mom decided to treat the aides to homemade cakes. I believe that 10 or more cakes stood on the counter for this scene. Yes, stood. My mom made cakes that looked like Christmas trees. The stood on their own, and she decorated each branch, candle, and ornament. They were beautiful. Mom and Dad were going to deliver them after dinner.
My brother peeled potatoes for dinner and threw them into the pot to boil. I love raw potatoes. Put a little salt on them and crunch away. Once the kitchen was clear, I grabbed the knife from the sink (one my dad kept very sharp) and sunk it deep into a beautiful specimen just begging to be eaten. I held it, still on the knife, in front of me – admiring it. Then it happened. I felt a hand slap onto my wrist. A voice from the side stated, “If you want a potato, peel your own damn potato.” I yanked down knowing that there was no better way to get someone to release your wrist. My entire hand went straight down.
The next thing I know, big bro is screaming – I would say like a girl, but he reads this – and holding his thumb. It didn’t help. Out of his thumb came a stream of red liquid. Fortunately my dad was an EMT and had taught all of us first aid. The first rule of thumb was to keep calm. Yep – nope.
My brother’s hand started flying from side to side. The blood started flying around the kitchen. While the colors of Christmas might be green and red, this red did not look as nice on the green cakes. I could hear my father start down the stairs. I had to get out of there, out the door I flew. Oh yeah, I forgot the second rule – render assistance.
When I got outside, my brain looked for a hiding spot. Since it was Christmas, it was cold outside. I looked and saw that the van was unlocked. I jumped in the back behind the couch. I ducked down waiting for the coast to clear. I did not think that my brother would need to go to the hospital. I was now trapped for the long trip. The rest of the night is a blur. I am sure that there was a punishment in there somewhere, but I have wiped it from my memory.
So there. I have evened the scored and showed that I could turn the tables on my brother. If I can leave you with nothing else, it is this – keep your hands and fingers far from your siblings.
I hope you had a nice walk with me tonight. Thank you for meandering with me.