Larry, Linda, and Michael Chabon

A lot has been on my mind, but what else is new? I'm usually mulling something over in my head like a cow chewing cud over and over again until whatever I was thinking about takes shape or gets swallowed with everything else. Sometimes I'm able to get it down on paper, sometimes it may just end up as voice memo on my iPhone that I never revisit. I've got a lot going on upstairs today... I've been thinking specifically about my life and my relation from where I am to what I want. But what do I want? Interesting question. A home? A person to share my life, such as it is, with? A job that makes me feel like I am doing something of value and helping not only myself but others? The answer is suppose is yes to all of the above, but on top of that I have been thinking about family. I thought a lot about my brother today. I'm currently reading Michael Chabon's sort of autobiography Manhood for Amateurs. (On a side note if you have never read anything by Michael Chabon do yourself a favour and pick up a copy of the book I just mentioned or The Yiddish Policeman's Union, or Gentlemen of the Road. Chabon is such a good writer, his prose is so evocative, it makes me want to cry or laugh or both. Maybe it's because his characters are mostly Jews and I've always felt since I was small that it was a part of my heritage that I wish I would have learned more about. Apart from my Nana sending me Hanukkah presents every year and a few books about the Maccabees, I never learned anything about my culture. Maybe these books help me reconnect with that part of myself. After all if we don't know where we come from how can we truly know ourselves?) Anyways.. back to my brother and family.

In Manhood for Amateurs, Chabon relates a story of how he and his brother shared a corned beef sandwich and reminisced about times when they were children and how the younger brother would follow him even if he was wrong and would trust him even if they didn't know where they were or what they were doing. It made me think about my little brother, who is now a not so little 26. Like Chabon's brother, my brother looked up to me quite a bit. As a result I felt like I had to be the kind of brother that was worthy of being an example, which of course is ludicrous as I couldn't be an example to a blind squirrel much less a flesh and blood relative. So like Chabon, I faked it. If I told my brother a story he would believe it, if I asked him to do something he would do it no questions asked. If I told him to fill his mouth with strawberry jam and spit it out as I shot him with a toy Beretta, he would do it and enthusiastically show it to my parents just for good measure. "Hey look at what Michael showed me how to do." Then I left for Africa. I don't know what kind of effect that had on him. He wound up coming to South Africa too a few years later but I wondered if it was for the experience or if he just wanted to follow his older brother. I wonder how he was treated at home if he didn't measure up. My parents aren't idiots and they are great parents and would never tell him, "why can't you be like your older brother?" But I always wondered that whenever he got in trouble even if they didn't say it if he could see it behind their eyes? I do not think that was the case because we couldn't ask for better parents but kids see what they want to see sometimes. I have always had this underlying pressure to be a good older brother and this has only increased with age. The older I get the more I want to strive to be a better brother, a better example but this is not healthy I think. Firstly I don't feel like I'm worthy of being emulated. In fact I hope my brother does not make the same mistakes I did, I hope he does the opposite of what I do, I pray sometimes he makes choices completely antithetical to mine. My life isn't a great example and I don't want to be one, but regardless of what I want I always will be because I'm the older brother.

My sister and I are a different story, we never saw eye to eye on anything. I suppose it is the typical thing for an older child to believe that having a little sister is more of a nuisance than anything. But that's a lie, she wasn't a nuisance and we got on very well until two things happened: My brother got old enough to play with me, and my sister became a teenager. Sometimes I wonder if she resented the fact that I transferred a large part of my brotherly affections to my little brother. My sister had a rough teenage experience. Lets just say it was difficult on my parents but not so much on me because I didn't really care because when she was a teenager I didn't like her at all. I thank God that our relationship is good now and we have a great rapport. She's given me 2 adorable nieces to spoil rotten and I do whenever I see them, but Amanda just a little bit more because she was first. The repair in our relationship began when I went to Africa again, this time for her wedding. We had a great time and I saw for the first time the woman my sister has become because she finally realized her worth and saw the kind of woman she could be and is.

This whole blog has been a massive departure from my usual navel gazing about God and faith and how it all fits in with my life. I've had it on my mind though all day and it feels good to get it out and down. Hopefully if Larry and Linda read it they'll both see something good in it and the love it contains and remember an easier, simpler time when I was still the older brother but we were still just kids playing in my sandbox in the back yard.