The Other Brother

This anonymous guy is asking for it. For those wondering about the wit behind the snarky comments, it’s my pesky oldest brother Rusty.

Now, normally I don’t hold a lot of beef with this brother, since he’s, like, sooo much older than me (dude is almost forty folks, he’s barely hanging on). We didn’t attend schools at the same time, I didn’t have teachers comparing me to him like they did with my direct predecessors, and by the time I decided to come out of my room and head out on my own adventures, he had been off on his own for a while. But I think despite our age difference we have always held a similar belief that we are the two normies flanking the unruly middle sibs and therefore must stand together by necessity.

I’d wager that a lot of our equanimity comes from an early intervention on Mom’s part. Before my self-imposed exile to the Land of My Room, I had the tendency to chatter. Frequently. And loudly. Whether or not anyone was listening. Perhaps as the youngest in a rowdy crew, I was hoping for the off chance that someone would stop their own whirlwind and hear me. Rusty heard me all right, and decided to complain to mom that, “she never shuts up!” Mom, ever the peacekeeper, asked him to try to stop and actually listen to what I was saying. So he listened, and decided I had something worthwhile to say, although somewhere along the line I suspect he stopped, probably when I became wiser and he became a conservative.

Rusty was often the ringleader of our gang when it came to fun times. Playing big rig convoy in the Buick [call signs: Rubber Duck, Desert Rose, Pigpen, Buzz Bee] “Ten Four good buddy, come on back!”; being a rock band – in concert and on the road naturally [Russ on drums, Ang on air organ, Tony and myself rocking the badminton guitars] I’m not making this up. We have this on film people.

I remember always being a bit envious about Rusty’s grand adventures. Rusty gets to stay with Grandma and Grandpa! I want to stay with Grandma and Grandpa! Rusty gets to work on the farm! I want to work on the farm! Rusty got a caterpillar tractor! I want a butterfly tractor! (funny story, I’ll share later) Rusty gets to go to college! I want to go to college!

When we visited Rusty during his stint at UC Davis, I was in awe. This is a dooorrrmmm!!! Wow! Look, there’s a guy singing into his fan, how cool! Rusty calls his friend Messy! How funny!

His friends probably thought I was a lovable doofus. Like a puppy with big paws. Aww, how cute! Look how clumsy! Okay, go away now, bye bye!

When I left home for college, and then to settle in the Northwest, I admit that I didn’t much stay in direct contact with anyone from home for several years. After all, the whole purpose of leaving was to figure out my own identity away from the herd. Mom was always the conduit. But somewhere along the line I think Russ and I decided that we did have some interesting things to say to each other and that we shared a similar outlook and sense of humor.

I recall one of the first times I felt like Rusty was talking to me less as a little sister and more as an adult sibling. We were standing in front of a store somewhere for some reason (I never promised specifics) and he was telling me about Denise and how he thought she was pretty special. I realized that he was sharing something big with me and probably said something extremely profound like, “yea, she’s cool.” And indeed she is cool.

Like that other brother of mine, Rusty has a remarkable ability to goad me into losing my cool on certain topics du jour. I won’t mention them here, but you can guess what they are. So while I do keep a wary guard up when he’s around and feeling feisty, I can usually get him to shake his head along with me in an “ain’t it the truth” sort of way at the antics of our parents, or those two madcap kids in the middle.

And while I can't confirm if Mom put him up to this or not, I have noticed that since her diagnosis I've been hearing from Rusty more often (and not just when Denise hands him the phone) just to chat and see what's going on. I know that he's listening once again, and I appreciate it. The miles never feel more great than when we're all waiting for updates or wondering what the hell dad is up to now.

Rusty and Denise have two girls, Liz and Sarah. The girls are fabulous with Colin, especially Liz. She’s always had a lot of patience with him and I always see his eyes light up when he sees her or looks at her pictures around the house. Sarah lets Colin tag along and I think when Colin gets a bit older and cagier, he will be a willing Clyde to her Bonnie in playroom hijinks.
Now, for this misguided belief Rusty holds about being Mom’s favorite. I just don’t know where that comes from. Poor guy. I think he needs some grand notion to hold on to. You need to remember that Rusty was the original experiment in the Lucchesi kid lab. The parentals just tried out various techniques on him and hoped for the best. But by the time I came around they knew what they were doing, and therefore I was a much superior child. Or so Mom tells me, but I don’t like to brag.

According to birth-order theorists, the oldest child tends to be conservative and power-oriented, while the youngest is often highly motivated to top older siblings in their accomplishments. I’ll leave you to draw your own conclusions.