Sunday, July 13, 2008


Well, it's only fair that I tell a little something about my brothers after the sisters post. Besides, you've only heard half the fun. My 3 brothers are all older than me, they live on opposite sides of the country and I only really see them once/year for family reunions. I know they all embrace the philosophy PLAY HARD. That must be a reaction from growing up WORKING HARD in the family orchard (ha, I never had to be a part of that) and paper routes, (or that) but I do have some good memories of how they spoiled me growing up....well maybe some of them.Allen is about 18 yrs. my senior. He is like a Renaissance man who can do a little of anything: play the piano, run a successful business, fix a leaky faucet, ski a black diamond. He lives the religion of recreation so I wasn't surprised when my mom told me recently that he rented a Harley and drove through the West. He has a great wife and family.
He's always been very generous to the family. He WAS Santa growing up. He bought me my first bike--a yellow banana seat. He sent me a pair of Girbaud's --which you just had to have in Jr. High if you wanted to fit in.

He has a daughter 3 yrs. younger than me and every summer he would send me a plane ticket to join them. I have him to thank for many a fun adventure: skiing at Snowbird, river rafting the Colorado, Salmon fishing in the Puget Sound, hiking to glaciers on Mt. Ranier, Fine Dining atop the Seattle Spaceneedle, High Tea in Victoria, Canada, and sailing through the San Juan Islands.
Robert: Here's a guy you can feel safe with. He was a Navy SEAL for 10 yrs. and a SEAL trainer after that. He is quiet and likes his privacy so he wouldn't be happy with me for mentioning the above. I only got this picture secretly--thanks to the 10x zoom feature on my camera.
Because of his military benefits we have him to thank for those glorious days of family reunions on the beach in Coronado--I think that must be Spanish for heaven on earth.

My favorite memory of him is when I was staying with my sister in VA. He drove up to spend a whole day with ME. He said he would take me anywhere I wanted to go and do anything, (I was about 14) WOW...anything? I chose to see the Holocaust Museum that had just opened in D.C. He didn't complain but I remember him saying that this is just one museum dedicated to one people who have suffered but there are things like that going on all over the world that people don't even know about. One time when my sister was complaining about being poor he retorted, "There are no poor people in America. Poverty is when you sell your children." If he weren't so private I'm sure he would have some stories to tell. He also has a great wife and family.

Dave: No one should have a brother 9 yrs older than them without a buffer in between. Swirlies, wedgies, noogies, I've had them all. If you don't know what any of those are you can count your lucky stars. How about being hung by my underwear over the banister and me screaming "put me down" and so he did and I went klunking down the stairs. Then there is the famous story of the mousetraps. Dave booby-trapped the bathroom with mousetraps then put me in it without any shoes, turned off the light, and shut the door. He loves to tell the story of how I howled for help then gave up and when it was silent, "ka-Ching!" went the first mousetrap.
I had short whispy barely there hair when I was little. One time on the bus a man said, "Hi Dave is this your little brother?" I was humiliated but to make it worse Dave said, "Yes, this is "Jim." and that's how he would introduce me to everyone.

Okay, so he has apologized for all those mean things and I've forgiven him and he's a lot better brother now. He is just newly out there in the world as an official Dr. of Podiatry. He hasn't "settled down" yet--meaning there is no wife with a house and picket fence. He is too busy traveling and having "fun." Several times a year he goes down to Mexico with a group of doctors and provides medical services to the needy. One of these days I would like to come along--if only to offer my meager services of Spanish translation.
So, you can see I was spoiled and persecuted all at the same time thanks to my brothers. Now TAG you're it. Sometime on some post I'd like to see what you'd say about your brothers...or sisters...


Megz said...

How did you end up in Richfield with your traveling genes?? And a brother that bought you Girbauds? Can't even imagine any of my bros knowing what that is.
Fun to read how you grew up. You really should be more messed up considering the mousetrap and Jim fiascos.

cold cocoa said...

Wow- your growing up experience was so different! Sounds like you had a lot of fun times. Your family sounds so interesting. It is nice to get a peek in and see what your life was like pre-(insert your new wonderful last name here).

Good times.

Michelle said...

I wonder what it would be like to have older siblings. I just have an older sister who didn't like me very much (then, not now) and only one little brother. Sad to day I did most of the torturing (not on purpose, of course) and received quite a bit in return. What would it be like to be the favorite? I guess that's why most of us get married--to be somebody's favorite.

T said...

I think Dave was just practicing for his future podiatry days with those mousetraps... testing tolerance for pain or something???

Okay, so I was an older sibling and I have to play devil's advocate (I do it often enough I really think I should be on retainer... errr... maybe not)

I don't think my boys will ever be buying Girbaud's for their little sisters, but I hope they have as much affection for them as your brothers apparently had for you (minus the mousetraps).

We're Wingin It said...

I remember Dave's Trash Compactor. Man, he was always tormenting you! At least my brother wasn't much bigger than me. Dave was funny though. I loved seeing what Allen would get you for Christmas every year--he was so generous!

Having a Navy Seal for a brother is so interesting! I know all the guys in high school thought that was SO cool.

I am going to have to read that book you reviewed. It looks great!

Sher said...

Okay, I confess to not knowing what Girbauds are and with such sadly lacking shopping knowledge maybe Meg won't want me to buy her a shirt so she can pretend to have a real older sister. I really don't know how you remember all of the details you do. I loved reading about your brothers. I did notice that Megz said she's surprised you're not "more messed up". Hmmm.

LC said...

Okay, Girbaud's (pronounced jer-bows except with a soft french j) were the coolest jeans you could own in the early nineties. They had lots of pockets and stitching and were about 8x the price of kmart jeans.

In his infinite wisdom, Heavenly Father matched me up with a therapist--ha ha.