My brother and I are complete polar opposites, both in our personalities and our physical appearances. I crave social interaction, intimate, even boisterous conversation, being constantly surrounded by friends. He’s content to be alone for weeks on end, his only company a book and the trees; he prefers silence to mingling with people he doesn’t know.
When he was born he was 10 lbs 6 ounces and about 23 inches long. I was a small 3-almost-4 year old and couldn’t hold him on my lap by myself. Growing up he had his blond curls and I had my long straight red hair but really we weren’t that much different when we were children. I was a tad more loud, a tad more rebellious, with a little bit of a mean streak attached but we both loved being outside and getting dirty, both liked playing with similar toys (even though I was more prone to the Barbies and dolls than he was. Although, being the child I was, I ended up removing the Barbie’s heads. I warned you I had a mean streak) and always played together.
Then we got older and he was the pesky younger brother who I didn’t want hanging around with my friends. This younger brother who was sprouting up like a weed until he shot past me when I was only 14 years old–he was 10. I became a rebellious, if not very awkward and shy teenager and he watched as my parents placed many restrictions on me and I rebelled. He has said he felt bad that he got off so easy when he reached his teenage years since I had exhausted my parents’ disciplinary tactics. Where I eventually grew out of my shy awkard self into an ambitious and more confident college student/twenty something, he only grew more introverted. He was opinionated, a know-it-all– the consequence of being too smart for his own good and being a direct byproduct of my mothers incredibly stubborn nature which also inhabited myself.
Where I would have screaming matches with my mother, he would get physically aggressive with my father. He would shout at my mother. Whereas my screaming was obnoxious, I was also only 5′2. My brother by the time he was 16 had reached 6′4 and was continuing to grow. At this point I was out of the house away at college and every time i came home he would be taller and taller and the fights were growing worse and worse over the dinner table. One particularily bad fight which my mother and me were unfortunate to get caught in the middle was when my brother and father had a pushing match and were knocking over furniture. My father being nearly 7 inches shorter than my brother made him a more formidable match, but not quite.
His anger issues have calmed but they still exist. I am rarely home nowadays and he’s rarely in the country, always away on some adventure overseas or across the country. He is still an introvert, prefering the solitary lifestyle. When he was visiting this past week I could tell all the socializing I was subjecting him to was getting to him. Don’t get me wrong, I was worn out myself, constantly having to entertain and be on the go with him to various tourist destinations, but he was a different kind of worn out. Where I wanted to shout let me sleep! He was silently screaming I need to be away from people!
Saturday night was a prime example of this. I had a birthday dinner for one of my girlfriends which he got through nicely since it was a small group in a semi-quiet atmosphere and he could just talk and not have to worry too much about fitting in. The second event we arrived at was in the bar in the basement of my thesis project’s building for my FIT girls to gather, get drunk, dance and have a good time. My brother obviously was uncomfortable in this small space. Once D arrived and they were introduced, he took off, claiming to be tired and that he just didn’t fit in.
Its more than just his introverted personality that doesn’t mesh with the social setting but its his physical presense. Whenever someone meets him they are astounded by his height; even more so when people find out I’m his sister. He stands at approximately 6′8″ tall, a whopping foot and a half taller than I. It makes for social commentary but he still feels awkward in his tall frame, being that he is the only one in our family that is anywhere near his height, and he usually is the tallest of anyone around him, even in a crowded subway car. I couldn’t imagine being constantly talked about behind my back, which is what he has to go through on a daily basis.
We always joke that he’s the mailman’s son, hey [mom], how tall was the milkman? Theres no explaining his height, his socially retarded tendencies, especially coming from my family of short, noisy italians, irishmen and germans who love to congregate and try to one up one another with their stories all the while drinking each other under the table from my mothers extensive liquor cabinet. The only resemblance my brother has is his alcohol intake.
Its also the joke that my parents smoked pot up until I was born. I want to know what my parents were smoking during my moms pregnancy with him so that i can end up with tall children too.
Posted in La Familia
