It’s my brother Tom’s birthday and I just want to say: At 80, you are danged old! There was a time, not too long ago, that I didn’t know anyone as old as you, besides Grandma J who was always 80, even when she was 40 and still was 80 when she was 96, one of those ageless women, but other than her, no one in my arena of friends or family was 80. Now my much older brother has reached a landmark and there is no turning back.
We have traveled many highways together, high and low, withstood our parents, Emeline (AKA the field marshal) and Bob, learned from them, loved them, admired them, detested them all in the same week, sometimes the same day. We nurtured our younger brother, David, who, thanks to us, turned out okay, but don’t tell him, he might get the big head.
I remember a lot of cool things about you. We always had a good relationship with less than a few disagreements along the way. You teased me by pulling my pigtails and supported me when things went wrong. You helped me with my 4-H project, Lambie, and I think I got a Blue Ribbon at the Gem County Fair, shortly before his untimely demise and becoming dinner one night. I still don’t eat lamb. You showed me how to whittle and taught me a few songs, but now you are a minister, so we’ll have to downplay that part of our childhood.
You were my role model in high school, and the field marshal always reminded me that your grades were higher than mine, so I needed to work harder, which I did, but they didn’t improve, and she continued to remind me to work harder well into adulthood. You were always a step ahead of me in school activities, National Honor Society, yearbook editor, and Miss Cole’s very favorite typing student, although I eventually, after taking two years of typing class in college, out-typed you. Bully for me!
You had an evening paper route for the Statesman as a 14-year-old, with about 100 subscribers. You allowed me to help you now and then and we rode our bikes (helmetless, of course, because bicycle helmets had not yet been invented), delivering papers and waving at the several 14-year-old girls who drooled as you passed by. It was always fun until they cornered me, demanding to gain better access to you.
We attended Camp Perkins Church Camp in the Sawtooths for a summer or two. I was staff lifeguard and you were a lowly camper, but we spent time together, again the girls clamoring for access to my charming bro. It was a constant uphill battle, because I was holding them off, giving me little or no time to search out those evasive teenage boys. This time at the church camp was a good time for us, we learned a lot, strengthened our religious faith…you became a minister…and grew in so many ways.
During the last year, you have been a rock, no, more of a boulder, as I have changed directions and moved on to new adventures and new people in my life, including Cowboy Bob. I just want to say “Thank you, Birthday Boy! You are a great bother, oops brother!”
If you enjoy Gail’s blogs, you can see all on her website: gailcushman.com. Books, too!
