Last But Not Least

Yesterday my baby brother Mark entered the last year of his “forties”, an unimaginable step since I remember so well not only the night he was born, but the large bump he made in my mother’s middle the summer before he was born.

The summer before he was born we’d moved from our hometown of Springville, NY in western New York State to Ogdensburg, NY along the St. Lawrence River.  As it happened Mark’s arrival coincided with trick or treating because Halloween fell on a Sunday in 1965 and in those days, Sunday was not an appropriate day to celebrate ghosts and ghouls.  Consequently, I always associate Halloween with Mark; remember coming home with a bag full of treats and learning that I’d also received a new little brother.  Since I already had two of them, it didn’t seem all that great, until he came home.

As a baby, Mark was the center of our attention.  Every little thing he did was miraculous and entertaining.  Making him laugh was total joy and making him cry wretched.  I  remember watching him take his first steps away from the furniture; what a moment that was!  It was an achievement we’d all routed him to accomplish; then he became mobile….

Once his force was unleashed on our home, there was no telling what would happen.  Without the “safety in numbers” of having a group of siblings close in age, he was able to go where none of us had gone before and entertain feats of daring do that we had dared not imagine.  This resulted in numerous trips to the emergency room for stitches and casts that none of us had ever required.  Eventually, my Dad began to triage the wounds and make is own butterfly strips when possible to save the ER charge.  My parents made many attempts to keep him safe; putting one of us in charge of watching him to keep him out of trouble.  My cousins fondly remember my mother keeping him tied on a lead when we were camping.  He just moved so quickly and stealth-fully that she was afraid to let him go untethered for fear he’d wander into the woods or drown in the lake.

As number six; the last in our line, it seems that God saved the best for last because he has by far the fastest processor and keenest wit of us all  No doubt this is probably a survival skill he developed growing up in a house with seven older people; all intent on either watching him or ignoring him, depending on who had the “Mark watch”.  He also possesses a great heart and capacity for love and understanding.  At times I feel that I haven’t had the opportunity to really get to know him as an adult because I moved out on my own when he was so young and geography has kept us apart for so many years.

This summer I was blessed to spend a few days with my baby brother when our family celebrated our parent’s 60th wedding anniversary.  It seems so strange that his balding man, towering almost a foot above my head could be the same tiny baby I received after trick or treating but strangely enough, the hug felt the same, those large man arms that could reach around my entire back were the same little arms who grabbed me by the neck when I carried him on my hip as a child.

These days, instead of our entertaining him, he keeps us in stitches with his quick wit and quirky observations of the world.  I wish I could have a daily dose of him to keep me laughing.

Happy Belated Birthday little brother.  Although I don’t get to see you or even talk to you as much as I would like, you are always in my heart.