I like my brother.
I’m sort of an only child, though I had a half-sister in the foster care system. But I had lots of different step-families/siblings growing up and I don’t talk to any of them.
My mother, on the other hand… I’ve been liberated from her for about four years now.
My mom died when I was 11, my day when I was 18. Fortunately I had a large network of aunts and uncles to help out my sisters and myself.
I am. Nuff said.
“I am”… I said
To no one there
And no one heard at all
Not even the chair
Not a huge Neil Diamond fan. I don’t dislike his songs, but something about his style puts me off. Never cared for Wayne Newton either.
Aunts and uncles are often underrated. One of my Aunts is my best friend. She’s only thirteen years older than me and I spent my adolescence hanging out with her and her cool older friends. She lives about six hours away now. We usually take the trip three times a year with my son, and it has become this wonderful thing between my Aunt, her husband, my grandmother and my own little family. Aunt’s husband is only five years older than me and a computer engineer. He and my son are like peas in a pod. They both go off and spend hours on the computer together while my Aunt and I sit around and I enjoy a brief respite from parenting my delightfully loud and persistent child. Then in the evenings, my 86-year old grandmother joins us for dinner. It’s pretty much perfect.
My Aunt never had kids, she said she already basically raised me and that was plenty for her. I lived with her when I was seventeen and left home. No single person has influenced my life more. I didn’t have an easy childhood but I can’t help but think of how much worse it would have been without her.
I did too.
- Can’t say.
- You mean, you can but you don’t want to?
- Can’t say.
Static on the radio . . .
One of my aunts-by-marriage has been more of a “mom” to me than my actual mother.
I once heard someone describe her mother as “aloof, but effective.” That kind of describes my mother. She made sure I had everything, and REALLY made sure. Limited junkfood, limited TV, very much, relative to my friends, made sure I had lessons, went to Hebrew school, went to summer programs, got tutors if I was struggling with something in school. Made sure I had really nice school clothes, and changed into play clothes when I got home.
But she rarely hugged me. She told me she was proud of me for academic achievements, but never for being kind or generous-- in fact, those sorts of things took a backseat to homework.
The hugs and snuggles and “I love you,” and “You’re a good person” all came from my aunt. Still do.
Anybody else go to a prep school? Hated the itchy formal wear, tho at least I knew how to tie an actual tie and not wear a clip-on like some boys did.
The mark of a gentleman (or Diane Keaton) is the ability to tie a tie correctly without looking in a mirror.
My father taught me to tie a tie when I was seven, and in the Brownies. The uniform had an orange tie, which they dropped the next year for a new uniform I hated.
But I never forgot how to tie a tie, and no, I don’t need a mirror. My husband cannot tie one to save his life, which he blames on being left-handed. I tie all his ties. He has an emergency one with a zipper that is reversible. One side goes with blue/black, and the other with brown/red. It’s for when he suddenly needs a tie, and I’m not there.
I taught the boychik to tie his tie, and he is also left-handed. He can’t tie his father’s tie for love or money, though. He can tie his own, and that is it.