My older brother has arrived for a visit. He is my senior by seven years and is well into his retirement on two pensions and a lot of friends.
We are a contrast to many. He never left home, just ending a two decades stint of caregiving and running the household for my mother and then our sister, who just passed a few months ago.
He is respected in his community, the go to guy for car and household repair, active in the church and other community organizations.
I left home at 17 and never really came back except for visits. I married , he did not. I travelled the world, survived some serious near misses , did the corporate thing, met the celebrities of our time , raised a family of my own and transplanted it to the west coast.
He only envies my finding a wife. His big regret.
This Sunday I took him to a local car club event at the summer festival in one of the local villages. My brother is a serious vintage car guy. He owns a 55 T Bird, a 31 Model A and just took his first (and only new car) , a 1966 Ford Galaxie convertible down to the frame and rebuilt every bolt and metal piece back to showroom condition.
He walked the line of cars in the 100 degree heat, and commented to me “There are no real T Birds here, they are all past 1970”. (To him, a “real” Thunderbird is 1955 , 56 or 57 only.)
One of the club members came up and said “We have a few, but with the heat today , the owners are too old to want to handle the day. They stayed home.”
My brother thought , and gazed down the row of Mustang Mach 1s and GTOs, the Chargers and the Camaros. He said, “I guess guys restore the cars they always wanted when they were kids.”
I looked at him and remembered the crew cut, the Buddy Holly 45s he owned, the beater 51 Pontiac that was his first car and knew he spoke the truth.
A man’s youth is the fountain of his dreams.
He and I , we took two different paths in this world. We look at each other and wonder what we missed. We do not wonder long and go our way, firmly set upon the paths taken.
Thanks, TKC. Families are interesting. When I read your piece I regretted that some woman missed her chance to get a great husband. Your brother sounds like a stand up guy with heart.
My oldest brother and youngest never left the area of their upbringing. The other three brothers went thousands of miles away.
We all married but two ended in divorce.
Are you like I thankful for the ones that stuck around and helped in our absence?
I will always be grateful my brother handled the end of life process for my mom and sister.
“When I read your piece I regretted that some woman missed her chance to get a great husband.”
Especially if he was related to you, TKC! Goodness, I’m beginning to sound like a nice person now- your fault entirely! :)
I suspect you’re feeling a bit adrift because you and a sibling took such different paths in life. I have experienced similar feelings during high school and even college reunions particularly with my gal pals but what I did find is that there were enough of us who do still share a bond and things in common. (Staggering home from fraternity keg parties was a common thread!)
I am fortunate to have five female cousins with whom I look forward to socializing because they lead unusual lives (actress, businesswoman, doctor, etc.) so it’s fun to talk.
As for personal family deaths, my brother and I shared responsibilities equally but it was made easier because my parents were obsessive planners and had taken care of most of the hard part long before it happened.
My advice is to search for those childhood memories that you both shared; those are bonds that no other person can share with you.
x, Liz
It seems when we have very little we remember the old beater car with fond memories. I had a ’62 Chevy II. It felt like I had to turn the steering wheel two revolutions to make a turn.
It was one of the last cars to have an generator as oppose to an alternator.