Older brothers

This is my older brother Tim, on the right. He’s 16 months older than I am, and the picture on the left is taken at our grandparent’s place on the barn ridge.  I’m about a year and half, and Tim is ready to turn three.

Being a second son has some interesting characteristics; Sometimes a loyal follower, sometimes annoying pest, but many times resting in a safe position because your brother has paved the way in school, in church, sports, and established how parenting would/might happen.  The older brother carried expectations second sons didn’t always feel and understand.

One of my strongest memories as a child is bugging Tim to play with me; 2 person baseball games that we invented. One was outside pitching against the barn wall, another was  inside with baseball cards, a ping pong ball and a pencil in the living room.  When we had an argument or fought, we rarely if ever apologized, but would rather say; “do you want to throw?” He also broke my arm playing 2 person football when I was in the ninth grade, yes I heard it crack.

I have also learned that my memories are not interpreted the same way by Tim, I think we have both come to a gentle truce regarding who is correct. In this season of life, my siblings, Tim and my younger sister Tina, have become even closer, more meaningful, more precious to me.  In the last number of months and years, the loss of parents, selling the childhood home, going through books, photos, furniture, memories and yes, detritus, I have cherished more time spent on this property on Ridge Road Spring City now owned by my brother Tim and his wife Rachel. 

Tim is a steady presence in my life with a life time of connection. Two of the most consistent influences in my life have been baseball and comedy–yes, yes I know, seemingly trivial pursuits in the grand scheme of faith, community, morality, justice, child rearing, relationships, career etc, etc, etc. But honestly, it’s baseball and comedy. Tim has been beside me in these influences, an effortless bond where a Robert Klein routine from 1973 is still part of our dialog, (“I don’t know from Philadelphia!”) and yes we know unequivocally who played third base for the Giants in 1964, and more importantly why he did not win the Rookie of the Year award that year. 

It was Tim who taught me how to throw and catch–he might not remember it, but who else? I was his catcher as he developed as a pitcher–we both became infielders because it was easier to throw ground balls to each other than throw flies–we had one ball at a time and only when it became grass stained and heavy to the point of danger, we got another.   

He is a fabulous artist, aficionado of obscure musical trends, patient, gentle and a good friend.

And yeah he’s funny too.

We are marching onward toward our 70’s with the occasional limp, both physical and emotional but I still feel safe in my position in the middle, the second son.

I love you big brother.