I always called my older brother the guy I grew up with. We were two years and nine months apart and as a little girl I worshipped him. When we were young the feeling wasn’t mutual. He hated having to drag me along with his friends to the Saturday afternoon movies or to walk me to school. He made me walk on the other side of the street. But later on we became real buddies. He took me to the Cubs games during the afternoons he ditched Hebrew School. He brought me books from the library when I was sick in bed. And when we both didn’t like the same foods, we’d sit at the table together, however long our mother made us sit trying to make us eat. We went to the same high school but only had one year together – he a senior and I a freshman. Since he was a checker in the cafeteria, he always let me take a cut while checking out. I loved the way he looked – white t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up, holding his pack of cigarettes, Levies, and his white buck shoes. The cigarettes are the key … [Read more...]
Happy Birthday, Bro
Today would have been my brother's 74th birthday. I've told so many people lately about how close siblings are and that a loss of a sibling the people we grow up with is one of the hardest of all. I won't say it was as hard as Paul's death on me, but it certainly came close. I still get so angry thinking that he paid good money to make himself sick from cigarettes. Even though he was cured of lung cancer, his last years as he slowly faded away from radiation damage - the treatment that cured him - were like a nightmare for all of us. Ken in 2006. He died in 2008 Here's a poem I wrote about him that was read at his memorial service. Brotherly Love He made me walk across the street away from him and his friends to avoid me, his little sister, on our way to school. He'd rub my arm until it burned whenever he could take hold, and flicked me with a dish towel when it was his turn to dry the dishes. He called me fatso, He called me Madeldini He shut the door of his … [Read more...]
