Several days ago, I was thinking about my sisters and brother, mostly because I’d seen all of them over the holidays. And I decided that I wanted to write about them, so I asked them in a group text if I could. Heather, my older sister, answered right away with happy face and heart emojis, saying she didn’t mind if I wrote about her. Lisa, my oldest sister, answered next: “I have no idea what you just posted but if it is you than you can use me in your blog.” And then I got a response from Adam, my little brother: “Don’t know who or what this is but I charge $1 per word.”
And that’s each of my siblings, in a nutshell. Heather is the one with the biggest heart and the greatest ideals for her family. She’s also the sibling most likely to act like your mother. When she was here at Christmas, I was apparently not paying attention to the card game we were playing, so she snapped her fingers in my face—something I’d seen her do to her 12-year-old son. Lisa is blunt and mercilessly honest. She’ll say helpful things like, “Did you plan for your hair to look like that?” And then there’s Adam—a mercenary rebel who personifies every Irish stereotype. Last night when I was texting him, I mentioned something that annoyed him and I said, “Don’t hate the player. Hate the game.” He instantly responded, “Well, I invented the game so ain’t gonna hate on meself.” That’s my siblings, right there.
I don’t have tons of memories of being with Lisa during our childhood, only because she was older and spent most of her time with Heather. The memories I do have of her are mostly of when our family went on vacations. Lisa had a passion for reading historical markers—ALL historical markers, OUT LOUD—and a penchant for choosing the wrong shoes for visiting historical places. When we went to Washington D.C., Dad warned her that we would be walking all afternoon and told her that a prudent person would not wear sandals. She did anyway, and the afternoon ended with her sitting on a bench, crying because her feet hurt. The next day she very prudently wore socks and sneakers, like Dad suggested. Unfortunately, she then walked by Adam right when he got the idea to jump on ketchup packets that he’d gotten from McDonald’s. Lisa’s white socks and shoes looked like victims of a gruesome murder. Poor choices in footwear aside, Lisa has always been extremely loyal to the people she loves. One day at school, a kid was picking on me by karate chopping his hand into my throat. Lisa marched right up to him and chopped him in the throat. He never did it again.
Growing up, Heather spent most of her time with Lisa or one of her seemingly hundreds of friends. I used to study Heather as if she was a science project. How did she get so popular? How did she always know the coolest clothes to wear? And how in the world was she good at sports? That athletic gene somehow skipped the other women in our family. Heather had this intrinsic cool factor, and it couldn’t be copied. I tried. I played around in her makeup and put on her perfume, which was a huge mistake. Heather could walk into her room, lift her nose into the air like a wolf scenting its prey, and know instantly that you’d been in there. Having such a “cool” sister (except for her brief experiment with a permed mullet which, even in the eighties, was definitely not cool) did have its good side: she always did my hair for me for special occasions. And once she learned to do French braids, she would braid it for me any time I asked. My scalp still hurts when I remember how she wielded a comb and how tightly she braided it, but having cool hair made it worth it.
I have more memories of Adam because we spent the most time together. And some of my favorite memories with him are of when my parents dropped us off at our grandparents’ house for a week every summer. They lived in a small town, which was a novelty to us. And because it was a small town, Grandma and Grandpa let us do almost whatever we wanted. I don’t know what Lisa and Heather did, but Adam and I packed every day full. Before the heat of the day set in, we loved climbing up the sand hills that surrounded the town. We explored for hours and were especially fascinated by a cave that had supposedly been used by Indians. I made up stories about the pioneers and Indians, which Adam actually listened to. (Too well, it turned out. He wrote one down for a report in school and was praised for his imagination.) In the heat of the afternoons, we played pool because the pool table was in our grandparents’ basement, which felt almost air-conditioned. Adam was always in trouble with Grandpa because he used way too much blue chalk on his pool cue and then would accidentally scrape it on the ceiling. Adam’s very favorite part of staying at our grandparents’ was TV—unlike at home, they always had it on. Adam perused their TV guide until he had it memorized. He and I once asked Grandma—the kindest, most gentle person you’d ever meet—if we could stay up and watch “Pscycho” at two in the morning. She looked Adam straight in the eyes and said, “Who do you think you’re talking to?” It was two more years before we watched “Psycho.” At home.
My memories of those times with my sisters and brother kept a light in my heart on my darkest days. And on the other side of those dark days, I was handed the greatest gift: getting to know them as adults. They are the smartest, funniest people I know—and it’s no cliché when I say that if they weren’t my siblings, I would choose them to be my friends. Lisa and I have bonded over our shared battle with pain, and we help each other through the hard days and celebrate the good days. Her blunt honesty has come to be one of the traits I appreciate the most about her. She tells me exactly what she thinks, and I can trust that she means it. Heather and I talk about books and our jobs, and if I’m sick, that maternal side of hers comes in handy as she advises me on which essential oils to use and other ways to take care of myself. She also still does my hair, now at her salon. She tells me that I’m the customer who whines the most. (in my defense, she’s still a bit brutal with a comb.) And Adam and I share our daily lives; he makes me laugh and supports me when I’m down—usually by hollering at me, via text (and yes, I definitely know it’s hollering), the way Rocky’s coach Mickey hollered at him to get him back on his feet.
Time changes us. Distance changes us. But our shared past holds us together like thin strings of elastic—we stretch, we grow, and a few times a year, we get to snap back together. That bond with my sisters and brother has in many ways made me who I am. And I know that if I ever needed them, any one of them would be here in a second. I’d do the same for them. They raise me up—and it’s one of the greatest blessings and privileges in my life to be their sister and their friend.
“We keep this love in a photograph
We made these memories for ourselves
Where our eyes are never closing
Hearts are never broken
And time’s forever frozen still.”
from “Photograph” by Ed Sheeran
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Comments 15
I’m finally getting to read this; I love you, Renee and Heather and Adam. Thanks for writing this and for the memories; I have the same memories that you do of Heather…and since when did Adam become his awesomeness? although he’s pretty awesome…but that is a stretch to call him that…all the time.
And there’s that blunt Lisa I was talking about–I wonder if Adam has read your comment. One memory of Heather that I didn’t mention–remember her death punch to the arm? One threatening move from her fist and I was gone with the wind. Love you, too–I couldn’t do this life without you.
?❤️?❤️?❤️?❤️?❤️?
Love you, too.
Renee, Yes, Debbie is a very strong w9man, Thank God. She “rights” the ship, so to speak, Blessings to you. See ya.
We all need someone to right the ship when we can’t!
Great getting to know your family, they sound like a great bunch! Like you I did not know my older siblings that well due to an age difference–they were born at the beginning of world war 2. My dad was send to Indonesia in 1945 as a reserve soldier and ended up being away for nearly 3 years after which I was born and then my youngest sister Marianne 16 months later. My oldest sister got married at 18 and moved to New Zealand and my brother went to a Sea School at age 12 ( there are only a couple of such schools anywhere in the world) so he only came home on special holidays. We moved to new Zealand when I was 12 and my youngest sister 11 and so met up with my oldest sister again, while my brother stayed behind In Holland and went on to become a Sea Captain! My family moved back after 5 years and my oldest sister came back also and consequently divorced. Of course I then decided to move to Canada when 21–for lots of reasons to tell you another time and as such we were apart. My youngest sister then moved back to New Zealand with her hubby and young children and were away for 20 years and then came back to Holland. Since then I have gone home every year and have totally re-bonded with all of them. It has been amazing, wonderful and exciting to learn so much more about them and today we are a tight knit group even as I am the only one far out. There have been many times I was going to move back, but my children and now my grandchildren have kept me here–so one foot in in Holland and the other here in Canada. That said, we phone every couple of weeks, skype and we meet often–they have come here and I go home every year! Family is critical to survival–I should know, as without them I would have not survived my near death experience and my subsequent divorce–God has been good!
Ps— that makes me not only the middle child—but in a sense also the oldest child, an unusual mix of who I am and how responsible I feel– often still in the middle but also re-act as the oldest in many ways. It makes me,me in more ways then one!
Klara–I loved reading your story about your siblings and your parents and how you all kind of scattered to the wind, to live your own lives. But now, you’re close again and get to see each other often. I’m so grateful they could be with you during the darkest times of your life. And, like you, I’m very grateful to know my siblings now, as adults. Thank you so much for reading and for sharing your story–I keep saying this, but you really do add so much to my posts. Thank you.
I love you all my sisters!
Love you, too, your awesomeness. I owe you ten bucks now.
Renee, Another creative, wonderful Blog. I know I sound repetitious, But, You Are such acwonderful, creative writer. Reading, and enoying, “This Is Us”, and looking at the photo, of you and your siblings, brings memories back to me. There was only my older brother, David and I. He is 3years older than me. He, I, Mom and Dad, did lots together, especially in the summer months. Trips tomupstat3 New York, camping, hiking, etc. I would compare myself to Adam. A rebel, and yes, a mercenary. David,, like Heather. Big heart, grea5 ideals, and yes, he acted “parental”, like Dad and Mom, in his “dealing”,with his ‘Baby Brother”. I could go ,on and On, Last, The Old Photos, In Black And White, wonderful memories fir me. Renee, thank you, for”This Is Us”. You are actually”Treasure”. P.s. Loved Josh Groban, “You Raise Me Up”, a dynamite song.❤️
Hi, Hal. I’m so happy that this brought back memories of you and your brother and your parents. Now I have more insight into you–if you say you’re an Adam. . . I hope Debbie is a strong, strong woman! Thank you for reading and for sharing your own story. It means so much to me. And I’m glad you liked the song–it’s one of my favorites!
Families are your treasures to pass on.
My condition is who passes to who first?. There are two of us siblings left.
Yes, they are my greatest treasure. I remember you mentioning the loss of a sibling. I can’t imagine the pain of that and am so sorry for your loss. Thank you for reading and for the comment, Steve.