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| Me (about 3rd or 4th grade) & Dana (about Kindergarten or 1st grade). |
Dana, my little brother, uttered "get" as his first word. As in "Get out of here!" "Get lost!" and "Get away!" He probably also heard "Get down from that!" and "Get over here!" but not from me. The last latter usage of "get" was from my mom or other concerned adults, who were likely afraid that he was going to kill himself before he made it to his 2nd birthday. Dana had a tendency to hurl himself off of high places, climb on top of things and generally go full speed with out paying any attention to safety. The former phrases were used by myself, his not so adoring sister.
It started out alright. I was almost three years old when he was born and I remember being taken to visit by my Aunt Gail and my Aunt Jen. I wasn't allowed in the hospital room, so they took me to the window of my mom's hospital room and let me peer inside. I don't think either of them was old enough to drive, so my grandparents must have been around as well, but I don't remember their presence. It seem like an exciting thing at the time.
Then he became mobile. The entire family was wholly unprepared for him. I was the first grandchild and I was a very complacent, docile infant. My mom has said that she could put me on a blanket on the living room floor and would stay there, even after I learned to crawl. Dana, on the other hand, could be better described as possessed. He was everywhere and into everything. He used to eat snails he found in the yard. Thus, the constant use of "get." I could never get away from him, there was no escape and no respite. My little girl self was constantly trying to get rid of her brother. I'd try to lean against a door to keep him from following me or try to sneak away without him noticing. I had very little success, he got stronger than me quickly because I was a smaller than average kid and he was a larger than average kid. People used to think we were twins.
As his motor skills improved, his level of danger increased. He started taking his bike apart when he was 4 or 5, but couldn't quite get it back together. Making a face plant off of a racing bike surprisingly only resulted in a fat lip. My best friend and I called him "duck face." He taught himself how to ride a bike by stealing my bike. At 14 he taught himself to drive a stick shift in an old truck with a column shifter. By the time he was 18 he'd been in more car wrecks than any one I know. Just small wrecks, though. Nothing life threatening, right?
We annoyed each other in the way that only siblings can. Especially since he was 100% "go" and I was at the extreme opposite, "not so much." I was a bossy kid and as the younger brother, it was his job to fall in line with my expectations. I didn't physically fight with him, my usual tactic was to overpower him verbally. I could get some mileage out of big, confusing words, usually in an attempt to get him to slow down or stop being naughty.
Once we got older, though, we were friends. We liked playing together and pretending different scenarios. We were especially bonded by our trips to Minnesota. Our parents divorced when Dana was an infant and I was still a toddler. Eventually, the arrangement came to be that we spent summers in Minnesota with our dad and the school year in California with our mom and step-dad.
We flew to Minnesota every June and back to California at the end of August. We made those trips by ourselves, starting when I was about 7 years old. We were assigned to a flight attendant and she delivered us to which ever parent was waiting on the other side. Once I was about 15 years old, the airlines determined that I was old enough to fly with my brother without adult assistance, so I navigated any connecting flights or travel needs.
I don't think there is as anything bewildering to a child as being without a trusted adult. The flight attendants were all kind and attentive, but they were strangers. Dana and I had to be anchors for each other. When I was crying because I was sad about leaving one of our parents, he took over and explained to people what was wrong. When someone in first class was smoking and we were in the seats immediately behind the smoker, I asked the flight attendant to make them stop because my brother had severe asthma. It was my job to take care of my brother. It was his job to take care of me.
We were never apart as kids, other than occasionally spending the night at a friends house. Our first separation was when I went to college. Our separation continued as I went to graduate school and later moved to Washington. Taking care of each other still continues to this day despite the physical separation. Now he is the person I call when something big is happening or I need help figuring out what to do. He is still my anchor.
He is still in California and now I tell him "get up to Washington" and "get out of California." It turns out that "get" is a very versatile word!
