Brothers compete against each other, fight and sometimes hate each other. However, I would like to focus on the more positive aspects of their protecting each other, feeling sorry for each other and downright loving each other. The two brothers whom I observed are four years apart in age. The older boy is in preschool, and his younger brother still has some crawling tread left on the knees of his britches, which he obviously intends to use. In each of the three cases, the older boy tried to help his brother.
In the first instance, I was sitting on a couch with the older boy (we’ll call him Jeff, obviously my name) on my left-hand side and the younger boy (we’ll name him Steve, the name of my real life brother who is four years younger than me), on the couch to my right. Steve was pulling large Lego pieces out of a plastic bin. He pulled a car out of the bin, and because of the small wheels on it, I took it from him. Even though only about one year old, Steve definitely knew what Lego pieces he wanted because he immediately pulled another car out of the bin. This process occurred three times. Then, when it happened one more time, I felt something hit me on my left arm (not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to get the point across). There was Jeff hitting me, explaining that Steve wanted one of those cars.
Another time, Steve was playing on the carpeted floor. He slowly wiggled and semi-crawled toward the tiled kitchen floor, where I did not want him to be. Twice I got up and brought him back away from the kitchen and put him on the carpet. The third time this happened, Jeff ran over and positioned himself between his brother and me so hopefully his brother could reach his destination. It took some explaining from me to let Jeff know I was bringing Steve back for his own good.
The final time when Jeff empathized with Steve was more recently. Steve was learning to walk. He was placed in the standing position on the floor, being encouraged to walk by his father. Steve took a couple of steps and I suppose lost his nerve. Down he went and on the way down hit a toy on the floor. Many times when Steve falls we all applaud his efforts to try and focus his attention elsewhere. This time, it did not work. Steve let out a big wail to let us all know this was no fun game. He continued to cry, and at that moment Jeff broke into tears too. All of a sudden, Jeff disappeared, running up the steps to the second floor and into Steve’s room. Within a very short time, Jeff appeared with a favorite soft toy of Steve’s and tried to use it as a balm for his younger brother!
Thinking back many decades, my brother and I were about the same age difference. I can’t lie to you. I thought it was neat to have a baby brother initially, but when he had been a few years old, we were both pretty nasty to one another. I teased him, tripped him with the lasso I received for Christmas and ran from him when he wanted to play with us bigger boys. I’m sure that was only the tip of the proverbial iceberg of my nastiness.
There was still a time when I showed my love for Steve. I remember when I was in fifth grade our class had some kind of a fund raising sale where kids brought in items they no longer wanted. One of the students brought in a Clarabell marionette from the Howdy Doody show. I hope you remember Howdy Doody. He was the marionette that appeared on the Howdy Doody show on television from 1947 to 1960 along with the master of ceremonies Buffalo Bill (a real person), Phineas T. Bluster, Flub-a-dub, Clarabell the clown, Princess Summer-Fall-Winter-Spring and other characters. My favorite character, of course, was Howdy Doody. I don’t know if I took a liking to Howdy because he had red hair (mine was much redder as a youngster) and his many freckles (mine were much more prominent way back then) or why, but he was my buddy. It has been reported that Howdy had 48 very conspicuous freckles, one representing each state before Alaska and Hawaii joined as states in 1959. I, on the other hand, had so many freckles, I could represent the world. Clarabell, to my recollection, was played by a human, did not speak but honked his horn much to get one’s attention and was always causing problems. Since there was no marionette for Howdy, I took the next best in Clarabell.
I decided this marionette should be mine to give to Steve. So, without any money, I offered $5 for him (I had to bring the money in later). One present value chart I checked gave a value in today’s dollars for this as nearly $44. Now that’s love!
Steve and I had many differences over the years, especially because of his behavior as the youngest child of four. He was known as “The Animal” until he was 16, at which time he became what I call a “human bean.” If your kids are “fighters” or scrappers, take heart; many times maturity does a great deal to both the younger and older sibling.
Note: I don’t remember how it happened, but the Clarabell marionette has made his abode in our cellar! If Steve ever reads this, I expect a call from him shortly thereafter for Clarabell’s return. Also, before we had kids, I purchased a six foot picture of Howdy Doody and attached him to our basement wall. It was not until years later that one of our boys told me he was afraid to enter the basement because of the large looming Howdy Doody!
Jeff Hall, of Honey Brook, contributes columns to Berks-Mont Newspapers.
