Being the Older Brother
It’s not easy. I think I may have been the worst older brother in history. Well, maybe not Cain-and-Able bad, but I do regret that I wasn’t a better role model, that I didn’t stand up for my younger brother, that I specialized in teasing and taunting him.
But while it’s fun to write about the youngest I’ve found myself looking after, the truth is, it’s the older brother who needs to be written about more often.
He has me shaking my head in admiration.
The only problem, it’s not good writing material.
I mean, when I say, “hey, let’s do our homework first,” he says, “Sure.” Then gets it done.
When he’s dragged to hockey practice, he doesn’t mutter a word of complaint; he sits patiently, sometimes talking to me, sometimes playing a game.
When we’re at a movie, he doesn’t suddenly need to pee in the middle of an epic battle between Thor and Loki.
In other words, he’s a delight to be around.
How can I make a story out of that?
Yet he’s got so much going for him. He’s got a pitch-perfect singing voice. It comes naturally to him so, you know, he doesn’t count it as a talent or skill.
He’s passionate about Adventure Time and Minecraft and Pokemon (but God-forbid, you say Pokemon-s).
He loves to talk about video games and movies and scientific facts. “Did you know the Megalodon is alive?” “Or big foot?”
He loves to ask questions that always get me thinking (and often stump me.)
“So what’s the worst dream you’ve ever had?”
“So what’s your favourite pokemon character?” (Stumped! The smooshadon? I dunno, I seem to forget the names as soon as I learn them.)
“So what’s your favourite movie?” (For the record, the greatest movie of all time is The Lord of the Rings Trilogy – yup, all three cuz the three are one and the one is three. One movie to bring them all together and in the darkness bind them.)
Oh sure he has his flaws. He cannot understand why the 1st Star Wars movie is the worst movie of all time, (the Jar-jar Binks abomination, not the Luke Skywalker one), he gets angry his brother sometimes, and he may take life a little too seriously for an 11 year old, but what impresses me most is that he seems to effortlessly be a good guy. I’ve seen him be kind to his mom when she needs it most. I’ve seen him put others’ needs before his. And I’ve seen how caring and brotherly he can be with the youngest.
He talks to his brother, he plays with him, he tries to teach him life lessons (especially about Pokemon,) and, most importantly, he spends time with his younger brother.
He’s a good role model.
Better than I ever was.
He needs to be written about more.
All good guys do.
That’s the problem with good kids–they kind of get ignored. It’s what makes the parable of the prodigal son (and the shepherd with the lost sheep) so difficult. I guess the reward is in society’s respect and the knowledge, eventually, that one has been a good person. Some might laugh at that, but when you hit fifty and are looking at less of life to come than has passed, you start thinking about what you will leave behind and suddenly knowing that one has been good must be a solace. I look back and think I’m damned. You, bro, you’ll be alright.