My Bro' Used To Be Four Years Older Than Me
Actually, when I was real young, my brother was about ten years older than I was. Much bigger (taller), much wiser, could do more and was in charge of me when we were alone.
Later on, he was maybe six years older, then it leveled out to four years older – the time span on our birth certificates. It stayed that way for quite some time, until I noticed one day that we were only about a year or two separate in age. Huh.
Then one day I realized that we were the same age. I don’t know exactly when that happened, but it did. Sure, he was born in 1938 and I in 1942, do the math, but suddenly there was no difference. Funny how that happens.
He was always walking ahead of me, clearing the path, telling me what was about to come in life. I could watch him and see what the future held. Now, no more; we tread the paths side by side, discovering life together. We may shop in different “stores,” as our life experiences tend to be different, but as we come out of those stores, we compare our finds and continue along with our conversation.
Age is so relative. When I hung out with Dinah Kelly, it was a mis-match because I was 7 and she was only 6. They nearly considered me a cradle-robber. Also, I was Catholic and she was Protestant –another difficulty—but that’s beside the point.
Age spans are important for a while, like training wheels on a bike, but after a while we disregard the numbers, as they are no longer important.
Later on, he was maybe six years older, then it leveled out to four years older – the time span on our birth certificates. It stayed that way for quite some time, until I noticed one day that we were only about a year or two separate in age. Huh.
Then one day I realized that we were the same age. I don’t know exactly when that happened, but it did. Sure, he was born in 1938 and I in 1942, do the math, but suddenly there was no difference. Funny how that happens.
He was always walking ahead of me, clearing the path, telling me what was about to come in life. I could watch him and see what the future held. Now, no more; we tread the paths side by side, discovering life together. We may shop in different “stores,” as our life experiences tend to be different, but as we come out of those stores, we compare our finds and continue along with our conversation.
Age is so relative. When I hung out with Dinah Kelly, it was a mis-match because I was 7 and she was only 6. They nearly considered me a cradle-robber. Also, I was Catholic and she was Protestant –another difficulty—but that’s beside the point.
Age spans are important for a while, like training wheels on a bike, but after a while we disregard the numbers, as they are no longer important.
posted by Tom Carten at 9:29 PM
1 Comments:
Age spans are not important. What is important is what each one brings to the other, what each other gives to each other and the acceptance that the other does not always fit into our window.
We have no age span problems with what I call The Old Man, but we do with our father. Same person, different plateau. Mom is Mom, but on a cruise Mom is a pardner. We might say that in these two cases that we are both descriptive adjectives of each other.
Brothers as younsters regard age span as something of high importance. As brothers become older and jell together they are all the same age as we consider age span as only a written document and not a family totem pole.
By eliminating age span, we gain so much from the other, we can share secrets, we can laugh and cry together and mostly we can appreciate each other.
Cold Josh's Second Cup Morning Meanderings
Post a Comment
<< Home