I love this photo. In part, because my mother made our outfits. She and I are polar opposites, really. She is out-going, life of the party type, neat and orderly, what you see is what you get kind of person. I am far more adept at donning a mask, far more inclined to survey my options before jumping in. I’d rather spend my time behind the camera than in front, and I don’t really trust anyone else with a camera. Yeah, we’ve already established that I’m far from orderly. But this craftiness, we have this in common. I like the fact I can trace this bit of me back to my mother.
I adore the photo, too, because subtly it tells you more about who we were than my words ever could. There are so many stories just in the way we both smile. I am the eldest; but like my mother, he is the life of the party. Mark is two years younger and the baby of the family. He was easy. Born with a smile and eager to see the world. He had my mother entranced from the moment he graced this earth—and nothing has changed really.
He’s always been easy. Easy to love, easy to hold. I wasn’t. And that’s just who we were. At the tender age of 4, I knew he was a bona-fide charlatan. Perfectly at ease with fibbing. Perfectly skilled at looking innocent. But, I could see through him, I wasn’t so easily dupped. How could grown adults be so blind? Couldn’t they see he was simply acting? By the time he was two I was convinced my parents were bona-fide idiots. I believed that until 11 years ago.
“I didn’t do it! She did!” And guess who would be in trouble. Oh yeah. The only thing I was easy about was being the scape-goat. He didn’t coin it. Neither did I. But the two of us, the two of us were the embodiment of “You can catch more flies with honey than you can with vinegar.” Flies still die in honey, though. Just sayin.
I only lied once to my mother. He’d pushed me too far, for too long. An hour car ride with the two of us squabbling in the back-seat had my mother near the edge. So when he cried, “Oh no, she started it, I didn’t touch her.” I looked my mother in the eyes and said, “Oh, yes he did.” I never lied, so she believed me. He got a taste of his own medicine.
In these moments my mother was fond of hauling out the standby of maternal curses, “I hope someday you have children just like you!” I’m sure her mother had said it to her. I am sure your mothers have said it to you. She had no idea, though. And she probably shouldn’t have said it to both of us at the same time. The Universe has trouble with impersonal pronouns.
He was hard not to love, this younger brother of mine. Even though he disrupted my perfectly sane life. Even though he’d hoodwinked my parents before he could talk. I know I was a happy child before Mark. I have pictures to prove it. And the photos after him tell a different story. Sullen? Oh, yeah, that was me. Damn proud of it, too. I knew the truth! I couldn’t help it if my parents were too enamored with this little monkey to realize he was foolin’ them all.
Slowly I receded into photos. His star has always been rising. He will tell you a different story. He will tell you he lived in my shadow. But we know he fibs. It’s not true, it isn’t. He was the star and I was the kid standing in the background. The only difference between then and now, is that I usually have camera in hand and I don’t mind all that much.
I did end up with a child just like “you”. Though, not like me—oh no. No, in a cosmic joke that does not escape me, the Universe took liberty with “You” and gave me a child just like my brother. Happy to smile into the camera, easy with his place in this world. He’s so much like his uncle that I regularly call him by the wrong name. And while they have not spent a great deal of time together, Boy Wonder still says things that sound like my brother. I find myself easily enchanted by the web my child has spun. Perfectly willing to believe his act. Perfectly at ease watching him shine. And I find, like my parents before me, I’ve been entranced since the day he graced this earth. I suppose that makes me bone-fide, too.
In May, my younger brother will wed the lovely Marie. This deserves a post of its own. I will find words for this moment, in time. I don’t know if they will have children. It’s really none of my business, so I don’t ask. But I can’t help but hope, because this cosmic joke the Universe is telling is only half told. I’m waiting for the punchline. I’m waiting for the moment when I get to hold a niece sullen and full of vinegar, and declare, “Why Mark, you got one just like me.”
And I will love her best. And most. And more than words can say. Because really, who wouldn’t love a child just like you?
Both my girls are a bit like me, and a bit like their dad. I think I have more issues with the aspects of them that are like me though. It’s hard not to control, and so tempting to try to get them to avoid my mistakes. They have to make their own, right?
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That’s the theory, anyway. 😀 ~W
My daughter is so much like my sister — who chose not to have children. Not exactly like her but so much like her. It’s amazing, and I regularly call her by my sister’s name, too. Cosmic chuckles are regularly heard. Oh, and just for the record, I was the easy one! 🙂
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Oh, I’m relieved to hear you do that too. OF COURSE you were the easy one. Heh. ~W
I love hearing about who takes after whom. It’s funny how it’s not just eye color and noses and smiles that get passed along.
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Heh, it is funny—because it’s so much more than looks. BW really does look like me. . . but he’s his father as far as his thinking goes, and that star of the show disposition is all his uncle and grandmother. ~W
I’m sorry… did you just write a story about me and my brother? I’m really trying to find the differences, and I can’t so much. Except perhaps the mom-made clothing. I mean, my mom made ours too, but it was of the 80s variety.
I cannot wait for the day my brother will have a girl like me. I hope it will help me understand me a little bit more 🙂
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Oh sure, remind me that I’m that much older than you. It’s because it’s my birthday month, that you’re torturing me, right? 😀 ~W
I chortle with tears- that is so funny. I wish I knew someone like me.
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Oh, I’m glad you laughed. I’m a humorist at heart, but I think that gets missed in reading my work sometimes. IZ keeps telling me to PODCAST so people can HEAR how these pieces are supposed to sound. Like the world needs more of my voice! 😀 ~W
I got what my mom wished upon me…and I remind my daughter every day that everyone thinks she is just like her mother. That bit of sharing is tasty.
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Yes, because we all want to be our mothers at 17. NICE. 😀 ~W
Ha, this is hilarious!! You two are absolutely precious!
I’m sure Mark has his own thoughts on the subject, but if we have a little girl I would love it if she was sullen and vinegar-ey… just like her aunt 😀 More importantly, I’m hoping that somehow Mark’s genetic makeup will provide us with a little girl with light-colored eyes and dark hair, once again… just like her aunt… I hope the Universe is listening!
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Don’t listen to Mark. And for the record… I’m on your side. I can already see that I’m going to enjoy having a sister. 😀 ~W
This picture is sooo adorable!
I was able to thwart my parents and take away the threat of a kid “just like you!” because … well, because I knew what a kid “just like you!” would be like. And I’m not stupid. 😀
Family dynamics are interesting. I look very much like MoC … and I do take after her in some ways. But more and more, I look in the behavioral mirror and see my father. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not 🙂
Congrats, Marie!
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Seriously, considering all the DNA at play, Adoption should have been on our agenda. ha ha ha. And uh, I have that stupid Kaiser Chiefs song Ruby stuck in my head. OY. And I think you’d do just fine raising a little cap. Just sayin. ~W
Oh my. Boy Wonder certainly does look like his momma. Whether or not he got his uncle’s personality traits his sweet face has the look of the sweet (albeit sullen) young girl in this photo.
Have no fear, the universe is most likely listening. It listened to me. My big brothers EACH got daughters Just. Like. Me. 😀
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The older he gets the more he resembles me. Weirdly. When he was first born, he looked so much like IZ one of our good friends said, “Well, we know he’s not the milk man’s.” heh. And thank you for this comment. I got to the end and busted out laughing. That almost makes me wish I had more siblings. ha ha ha . 😀 ~W
If we were rating personalities like potato chips – at least as children – I would say Mark was like BBQ flavored chips. Lots of zing, always fun, if not a bit over the top. You on the other hand were more like salt & vinegar. Complex but addictive.
If the Universe has a wry sense of humor – I’m betting on them ending up with salt & vinegar… and Marie and Mark will find lots to love in that particular flavor… I know I have.
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Heh… I love the analogy. 😀 ~W