August 6: Slowed Again, Siblings, Text Conversations

Santiago and his cramped hands . . . 

It will uncramp though, he thought. Surely it will uncramp to help my right hand. There are three things that are brothers: the fish and my two hands. It must uncramp. It is unworthy of it to be cramped. The fish had slowed again and was going at his usual pace.

The old man's hands are working against him.  As he points out, it's almost as if the fish and his hands are siblings.  What do siblings do?  They look out for each other.  Well, most siblings do.  I don't always see eye-to-eye with my remaining sibs, but, if any of them were in real trouble, I would be there for them.  Blood is thicker than being assholes, I guess.

We drove back from Illinois today.  We took the return trip at a leisurely pace.  Stopped a few times.  Visited a mall (yes, they still exist) and had a really good dinner.  And I watched my son and daughter play games together at an arcade.  My daughter is a typical older sibling.  She has no idea how much her little brother loves her.  Having his sister for a few minutes to himself was the best part of my son's day.

While we were at the mall, I received a text about one of my best friends who is facing a real crisis.  This person has had my back and supported me through some very difficult times.  The news was not good, and it hit me hard.  I wandered around for a little while, having text conversations with a few other close friends who are like family to me.

I think we all take loved ones for granted.  Think they're always going to be there, through pandemic and post-apocalypse.  It's not true.  With one text, your world can shift, and you suddenly have to adjust to an alien landscape.  Today was one of those days for me.

I am home now.  My son is playing video games in his bedroom.  My wife is asleep.  My daughter is at her boyfriend's house.  Everything is the same, and yet it isn't.

Saint Marty's blessing today:  watching his kids play games together.

July 13: No One to Help, Childhood Home, Oliver Twist

Santiago has no one to help him . . . 

That was the saddest thing I ever saw with them, the old man thought. The boy was sad too and we begged her pardon and butchered her promptly.

"I wish the boy was here," he said aloud and settled himself against the rounded planks of the bow and felt the strength of the great fish through the line he held across his shoulders moving steadily toward whatever he had chosen.

When once, through my treachery, it had been necessary to him to make a choice, the old man thought.

His choice had been to stay in the deep dark water far out beyond all snares and traps and treacheries. My choice was to go there to find him beyond all people. Beyond all people in the world. Now we are joined together and have been since noon. And no one to help either one of us.

Yes, Santiago realizes that he's on his own.  Him and the fish.  Two old creatures of salt and water.  

Last night, I found out that my sister is planning to sell the house I grew up in.  Both of my parents are gone.  My sister with Downs syndrome died almost six months ago.  Now, it's just my two oldest sisters living in a huge dwelling that once contained a horde of about twelve people.  I get it.

As much as I would love to see my childhood home stay in the family, I understand that is not what my sister wants.  After the house sells, there's a chance that both of my sisters will be moving across the country to live in Washington.  At the very least, one of them will most definitely be leaving.

And then, in this little Upper Peninsula town where I grew up, I will be the only member of my family remaining (if my second sister decides to leave, as well).  That makes me feel fairly . . . "alone" is the best word I can come up with.  Like Santiago by himself in the middle of the ocean.

I've been at sea (pun intended) about this news all day long.  My family used to be pretty tight.  We saw or spoke to each other on a daily basis.  Had dinners together.  Looked out for one another.  That's the way our parents raised us.  I suppose a therapist might label all of us  "codependent," and that would be a fair observation.  

But things change.  Through marriage.  Kids.  Divorce.  Death.  Mental illness.  Addictions.  Hard feelings.  Bad blood.  It's inevitable.  I don't get along with all of my siblings that well, for reasons complex and personal.  We just don't see the world the same way.  Harmony is simply not in the cards for us.  I accept that.

Last night, sitting on my couch in the dark, I thought of how scattered we all are, mentally and emotionally and geographically.  I had a close friend once who thought my family was a real-life Brady Bunch.  Of course, nothing could be further from the truth.  The seeds of what's happening now were planted a long, long time ago.

I never realized how it's possible to feel like Oliver Twist when I grew up in Cheaper by the Dozen.  

Saint Marty's blessing of the day:  a couple of hours sitting with a friend in her garden, writing poetry.

November 4: Fern and Avery, Sister, Prayer for Healing

One evening, just before Christmas, snow began falling.  It covered house and barn and fields and woods.  Wilbur had never seen snow before.  When morning came he went out and plowed the drifts in his yard, for the fun of it.  Fern and Avery arrived, dragging a sled.  They coasted down the lane and out onto the frozen pond of the pasture.

Fern and Avery are pretty typical siblings.  Fern, the older sister, gets annoyed with her little brother's antics.  Always responsible and sensitive, Fern saves Wilbur's life at the beginning of the book when Mr. Arable is about to "do away" with him for being a runt.  Avery stuffs his pockets with snakes and frogs.  At one point, he tries to capture Charlotte for his bug collection, much to Fern's horror.  Avery doesn't see animals as companions.  He sees them as slimy and hairy and creepy.

Yet, for all their differences, Fern and Avery are always playing together.  Swimming.  Swinging.  Sledding.  There is a palpable sense of love between the two of them.  They care about each other deeply, even if they annoy the crap out of each other.

Being the youngest in a family of nine brothers and sisters, I know a thing or two about annoying my siblings.  It's inevitable for the baby of the family.  It's in the job description.  My sisters have always been really good to me, even if I lost their favorite swimming goggles or wrecked their just-paid-off cars.  Yes, we get on each other's nerves.  Yes, most of my sisters vote Republican.  Yes, they know I voted for President Obama twice (and would vote for him again).  Yet, like Fern and Avery, we care about each other deeply.

One of my sisters is facing a really significant health challenge right now.  She recently had back surgery, and now, three weeks after the fact, she is battling a raging infection.  She went back to work this morning, threw up three times, and went home.  It doesn't help that she's diabetic and was just diagnosed MRSA positive.  I have a feeling that she has a long recovery ahead of her.  I'm worried for her.

I'm asking my disciples to pray for my sister tonight.  Send thoughts of healing and health her way.  She's struggling, mentally and physically.  I'm sure she's not seeing a whole lot of light in her life at the moment.  Fern needs a miracle.

Saint Marty is looking for "Some Hope" in Charlotte's web tonight.

Prayer and hope are needed

October 10: The Brook, Indoor Waterpark, Taylor Fairy Tale

One warm afternoon, Fern and Avery put on bathing suits and went down to the brook for a swim.  Wilbur tagged along at Fern's heels.  When she waded into the brook, Wilbur waded in with her.  He found the water quite cold--too cold for his liking.  So while the children swam and played and splashed water at each other, Wilbur amused himself in the mud along the edge of the brook, where it was warm and moist and delightfully sticky and oozy.

Fern and Avery have a good day at the brook, doing what brothers and sisters normally do when they go swimming.  They play and splash, and probably yell and argue, as well.  Because that's what siblings do.  They love each other, and they annoy the crap out of each other.


I am posting tonight from the Kalahari Resort in the Wisconsin Dells.  We just returned from the indoor waterpark, and both my son and daughter are pretty exhausted.  My daughter is arguing with me right now, begging my for my laptop.  She says she has homework.  I think she has some hot game of Minecraft waiting for her.

It has been a really good day, aside from my surly teenage daughter.  The trip went fast, and we didn't get lost once.  Yes, my kids argued and yelled at each other a few times, but, as I said, that's what siblings do.  The love each other, and they annoy the crap out of each other.

Once upon a time, a sister and brother named Taylor and Taylor lived in the kingdom of Taylor.  (I'm a little bit tired, not feeling very imaginative.)  The Taylors decided one day to go visit their Aunt Taylor in the neighboring town of Taylor.

To get to Taylor, the brother and sister had to take Taylor Street to Taylor Court.  Then they turned left onto Taylor Way, which merged with U.S. Taylor.  They stayed on U. S. Taylor for almost 50 miles, and then they took Exit 4 to Taylor, where they drove to 1313 Taylor Lane, their Aunt Taylor's address.

They got out and knocked on their aunt's front door.  Nobody answered.  Their aunt was on vacation in Walt Disney World.

The Taylors went home.

Moral of the story:  always call ahead before you decide to visit somebody.

And Saint Marty lived happily ever after.

Sorry, peeps, my daughter's offline tonight