Thursday Tidbits

Posted on July 29, 2021 under Thursday Tidbits with 3 comments

 

Our mom’s 80th

 

“It’s a long, long road, from which there is no return,

While we’re on the way to there, why not share?

And the load, doesn’t weigh me down at all,

He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother.”

He Ain’t Heavy. He’s My Brother – The Hollies

Sibling rivalry.

Have you ever had an argument or disagreement with one of your brothers or sisters? (Does a bear shit in the woods?)

That might be one of the most asinine questions that I have ever posed in this space. The only possible reason for not having a fight with a sibling is the fact that you were an only child.

Many of my readers are seasoned veterans. Translation – We’re receiving our Canada Pension and Old Age Security. As such, many of us are products of the Baby Boom when children were being conceived at an unprecedented rate. Large families were commonplace especially here in The Little Vatican. Families of 6-10 were the norm.

I don’t care who you are but put any ten people in a small three- bedroom house for an extended period of time, with one bathroom, and you are inviting hostile, internecine warfare.

In a big family, you compete for love and affection but mostly for food. The greatest battleground in our house was the kitchen table. The big table in the dining room was reserved for civilized company, like priests or out of town guests. I didn’t know what leftovers were until I spread my wings and lived on my own. Leftovers? Are you kidding me? Chipper, our dog may have been one of the most undernourished canines on the planet. The only time he ever received a table scrap is when mom served liver. If you want to know what WW111 might have looked like, look no further than the last piece of dessert. Mom was judicious in handing out dessert but from time to time (usually when a sibling was sick), there might be one piece of cake or pie remaining. This is where we had our first taste of hand to hand (hand to mouth) combat.

The second major battleground was the kitchen sink. We all had to take turns doing the dishes and, of course, there was always a mountain of them. With eight of us, the division of labour was easy to mete out. We worked in pairs. At least that was the theory. Occasionally the dish washer and dish dryer were on speaking terms but that was an anomaly. Invariably, one of the combatants was having a bad day. Pity help the dish washer if the dinner plate wasn’t cleaned to within an inch of its life for it would swiftly and unceremoniously be tossed back into the soapy water. This might be met with a flick of this same water back into the eyes of the dryer.

My siblings were all good students so there was the ever-present pressure of good marks in school.

When it came to clothing, there wasn’t much discussion. The older ones got the new duds while the rest of us got hand me downs. Flaunting new clothing was a sure-fire way to piss off the rest of us. “Don’t give me no hand me down shoes, don’t give me no hand me down love; don’t give me no hand me down world, I got one already.” Hand Me Down World – The Guess Who

While we all had our differences and idiosyncrasies (except me, of course!), our love of music was universal and undeniable. When we weren’t at war, which was a constant (just imagine the hormones percolating under the roof of that small house), we shared one passion, one we carry with us to this day. Music was the thread that prevented a reincarnation of the massacre of Glencoe. If any of my siblings read this, they might have a different point of view. Some of our musical gatherings (especially when we were in bands together) might have resulted in global destruction.

The years dispersed us to the far reaches of Canada. A few of my brothers moved to B.C. and my sister taught school in Newfoundland. We all had busy lives and managed to keep in touch. We had a few memorable family reunions.

The years passed and in retirement many of my siblings made their way back to Antigonish. We see each other frequently and have the luxury of time to enjoy meals and walks together. Our appetites have waned considerably and these days, there are always leftovers, even dessert, a blasphemy 50 years ago.

Time marches on and the death of siblings becomes an unpleasant and unwanted reality. In large families, grief can be shared among those left behind.

While sibling rivalry is real and often painful, you can’t rival having lots of brothers and sisters.

They will stick with you to the bitter end.

And gladly eat the last piece of apple pie!

Have a great weekend.