This young man was simply expressing his concern that maybe
there wasn’t enough room or that his mother had too much on her plate. Thank God his mother talked some sense into
him because that big fat baby needed him there.
ALL of the other eight babies needed him there. You see, this young man was The Big
Brother. He was, in so many ways, the
captain of the ship, the lighthouse that guided it, and the cruise director who
set the tone.
At sixteen, this young man packed up his bell bottoms and
drum sticks and left with his mother’s blessing to chase his dreams. The nuns never understood his long hair or
fashion sense, his grandparents didn’t quite get that music could ever be a
Real Job and strangers very likely judged the decision to let him go, but his
focus was clear and his heart told him it was the right path.
In case you haven’t figured it out, I was that big fat baby
and I’m talking about my brother Tim – the eldest of the brood. As the baby, I can’t pretend to know what
experiences made him who he is.
Personally, I think he was just a reincarnate very old man who forgot to
revert to childhood when he came back to earth.
What I KNOW is that he’s always been the beacon of light for so many –
not just his siblings – and that he played a big role in shaping who I am.
I don’t mean to say that he Left Home. He never did.
He simply built a west wing away from the primary Albert residence in
the east. I only recently learned that
when we loaded up the station wagon and moved away from our hometown to
Baltimore, Tim was actually the one who chose our new home. I don’t know what he was thinking at the
time, but in hindsight, he set us up in a real neighborhood with schools and
shops and people who became lifelong friends to our entire family. He set us up, and then he packed up the
aforementioned bell bottoms and drumsticks and returned to the hometown to set
up base.
While we were going about our life, planting new roots, our
Big Brother was on the road. Making
music. Making connections. Following his dreams. But he never ever left us behind. We were with him. In his thoughts. In his letters. In his phone calls. He sent us stories from the road and I kept a
bulletin board map of the United
States with pushpins marking every place
he’d been. I knew which pin represented
a flat tire or a Blues Brothers-style caged stage.
In the summers, our father was supposed to have custody
visits. But really, given the choice
between staying with a night-shift coal miner we barely knew or our rock star
big brother, whose house do you think we chose?
And somehow, the teenage hippie rock star proprietor of the Albert West
Wing managed to open the door, make sure we were fed, reasonably clean,
entertained and, most importantly, together and happy. I didn’t know how he did it. I still don’t fully understand it. I know he had the assistance of many who
stood by with safety nets: grandparents, aunts, and a number of roommates who
joined the force, but the bulk of the weight was on him.
Maybe it was a bit of a commune. It was the 70s, after all. All my 7 year old self cared about was the
sense of freedom and big adventure that lived at Tim’s House. My adult self knows that along with freedom,
there was security. Along with adventure,
there was safety. Above the chaos, there
was LOVE.
In these summers, I received an education that you can’t get
at any Ivy League institution (but maybe they should offer it – you hear me,
Harvard?). Certainly, it was a little
unorthodox, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
I honed my reading skills on a huge collection of
underground comics. Perhaps grownups
wouldn’t approve of the lessons of The Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers, Zap
Comix, or even Mr. Natural, but I loved them and found them very educational. I learned about horticulture. I learned arts and crafts (little fingers are
useful for rolling small pieces of paper).
I learned philosophy from any number of friends who passed through the
house. I learned to do yoga and fry
plantains. I learned to improvise a meal
with whatever assortment of food was available.
I learned about diversity and acceptance and I learned to enter any room
with the belief that I was supposed to be there and the ability to bluff my way
through if questioned.
Most of all, I learned that attitude is everything and that
taking a risk isn’t really a risk at all if your heart tells you the net will
be there. And if the net isn’t there, a
Big Brother will be.
At the end of the summers, we little brothers and sisters
would return to the main Albert house with suntans, tangled hair, dirty feet,
completely happy nourished souls and, most importantly, stories, memories and
new skills. For some of us, it was a new
song learned. For others, it was newly
realized knowledge about who we are and belief in ourselves.
I don’t think Tim WANTED to be the patriarch of the family,
but that’s the way it is. I think it’s
natural for the eldest to be the leader.
In a long line of hard-laboring blue collared workers who saw college as
the only alternative, our Big Brother proved to us that we could do or be
whatever we wanted and that dreams are worth following. He even proved to our grandparents that music
is a REAL job!!!
Those summers are long behind us. Of course, I will always remember riding in
the band van with orange fur on the dash, sneaking in the side door of
nightclubs and napping under the keyboard while the funk band rehearsed. I’m sure my husband and kids are sick of
hearing the tales. But the real story
behind it all is that our Big Brother has always had our backs. Probably half of us have lived with him at
some point. I know we’ve all turned to
him when we needed a voice of reason and he’s never stopped taking care of
us.
It’s not just us…our Big Brother has been Big Brother to
countless others. He’s been Big Brother
to friends who’ve needed to be bailed out – both literally and
figuratively. Whether heads need thumping
or spirits need lifting, Big Brother Tim is there. When our father needed some tough big brother
love, Tim did it. When any of us still
need a head thump, we get it.
I hope that as years have passed, we actual brothers and
sisters have become less needy. My
brother deserves a break. But I suspect
that he will still be the go-to call for many at 2 in the morning who will
start a conversation with “Man, I’m really sorry to call you so late….” And I
know that he will be there to quietly save the day.
Happy Birthday, my brother.
Thanks for all the You that you are and all the You that you’ve
been.
I am SO envious of your family. Every time I meet a new member I just wonder how so many wonderful people can possibly be in one family. And although I haven't met Tim, I know that I would admire and respect him just as much as I do the rest of you Albert folks. Coming from a family who never made it a custom to like one another, it is so inspiring for me to read of family love and bonding. Thank you. I know it all came from that amazing mom of yours, and again, I am envious. Wish I could have known what it was like to be a part of something like your lovely band of kinfolk.
ReplyDeleteHappy Birthday, Tim, and congratulations on being such a lucky guy... What with being surrounded by Albert women and all :)
I'm fortunate to be related to the good people of my family, but you've created a pretty great unrelated family yourself, Isa. That means more than most people realize. And, you know, if you were to just show up at one of family reunions, I doubt anyone would notice there was an extra person there, so jump in.
ReplyDeleteI like reading your story from the perspective of the youngest, since I am the Big Sister (oldest of 10). And I introduced some of my siblings to a few of the same unorthodox, but awesome and memorable, situations. Great read as always Terri - keep at it!
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