Gotta have a brother’s (curved) back

My wife and I got a little pat on the back yesterday. We brought the baby over to my brother’s house for my nephew’s 7th birthday party. It was party for family and close friends, not 7-year-olds. (The kids’ party happened today, and I have not texted my brother or sister-in-law to ask how it went.)

The house was busy. Some of my brother and sister-in-law’s friends from university came and brought their kids. I ended up chatting with two boys in grades 7 and 8 about baseball (They asked what position I played as a kid. Outfield. But I always wanted to play first base.) and then about printing (They had heard that Kindergarten teachers have the best printing. I told them that I certainly try very hard when the students are watching.) Then we fell into discussing the huge gaps in academic ability between students in grade 7-8 classes. It is the greatest challenge in teaching: how to meet every student where they are at. The boys told me that some of their classmates can barely print their names. I sighed and lamented how difficult it is to design and deliver appropriate lessons and activities for kids with such a wide variety of academic strengths and weaknesses. If there are two kids who are extremely behind, the teacher might, out of necessity, focus on figuring out the programming for the other 28 students, and let those 2 students just coast along all year. I once taught a grade 5/6 split class for a month on a short-term contract, and I was unable to meet the needs of some of the struggling students because I was swamped with trying to figure out programming for 2 very different curriculums to be done at the same time. Me and those boys didn’t solve any of the world’s problems. Our conversation got cut short when it was time to sing happy birthday to my nephew. (It is the weekend and I am allowing myself to say “Me and those boys” instead of “Those boys and I.” I’m trying to keep it real.)

At a certain point in the evening our baby got over stimulated, so we brought him upstairs to chill out in a quiet bedroom for a while. My wife went and got my nephew to bring him up and let him spend some time with the baby. It was very cute. The baby held my nephew’s finger while laying on his back, kicking his legs around. We got some cute pictures. Eventually the baby fell asleep and we were able to bring him back down to the party and lay him on a comfy chair, propped up by a pillow. Everyone laughed at the sight of this little baby, passed out on a chair like a 90 year old man. We had him in grey sweatpants and a white T shirt at the time. All that was missing was a cane and a newspaper. People hovered over him and took pictures. Two other moms told us that we must be doing something right as parents, because their children would never have been able to sleep so peacefully in such a loud and busy environment. It felt pretty good, I have to say.

It was nice to see my brother. He and I worked together every day for 7 years. We started a business (with a lot of help from our dad) and for the first few years we worked 7 days a week, often late into the evening. We once worked all weekend, until 4am on Monday morning to get a job done. We were inexperienced, so we weren’t able to foresee how much work would be involved in a job. I handled the sales and the scheduling, and I often had us overbooked. It all looked good on paper, but as soon as one thing went wrong there was a domino effect of delays. I remember one stretch where we worked at least 8 hours on 98 out of 100 days.

My brother and I didn’t always get along. It wasn’t his fault. He was and is extremely easy going and polite. I just got frustrated sometimes because of how different we are. I am the hare and he is the tortoise. He is methodical and slow, but he doesn’t make mistakes. I am a little hyperactive, and I was the one who made all the arrangements, so I felt more pressure to get things done. That meant that I would show up early on weekend mornings, while my brother slept off a hangover from a night out with his friends. He worked hard and wanted to party hard. (I understand that feeling now, as a teacher.)  But at the time I only cared about getting the jobs done, so I was in bed at 9 every night, and I spent many an angry morning by myself at the shop, waiting for him to arrive. I should have been grateful that he came in at all. And I should have appreciated that his thoughtful approach actually helped us to create better products in the long run.

I left the business to him and his wife 8 years ago when I left for the Friars. And I have never, even for a minute, regretted that decision. My brother and his wife are happy too. He told me that he is much happier working for her than he was working for me, lol.

But there was a moment last night when I felt a sharp stab of nostalgia, and an overwhelming feeling of appreciation for my brother. I was standing in his kitchen with other guests when my brother walked in and got something out of the fridge. I looked at him, and I saw the curve of his back (a distinctive trait in our family which might be considered bad posture, but my brother is as strong as an ox, and my dad has the same curve and has been able to work hard into his 70s). I realized just how often I saw my brother for most of my life, and how little I have seen of him over the last 8 years. I realized that just seeing that familiar curve in his back made me feel a sense of security, like something I vaguely remember from childhood. I have always had an older brother, and I spent much of my life in close proximity to him. I never realized before how safe that always made me feel. We butted heads a bit at work, but in retrospect it was only a few times a year. The vast majority of the time we were two brothers who worked together, helped each other, and had each other’s (curved) backs.

After the party we came home, went to sleep, and I dreamed about my brother. He was playing the trumpet. He has played the trumpet for most of his life. I also used to play but gave it up decades ago. But in my dream, the sound of him playing the trumpet reminded me of my childhood, and I even told as much to the people in my dream. I told them how it brought me back to a simpler time in my life.

Today was the first snowfall of the year. I almost cried. I am very happy in my life right now. I am feeling more confident than ever at work. At home, I smile more than I ever have in my life. The baby is just so adorable, cute, and funny. My wife is the best. She and I are always laughing together. So, why did the snow make me sad? It was nostalgia. I experienced a flood of old memories from simpler times, when I was a boy, not a man. My world took care of me back then, not the other way around. I would never actually want to go back to that. I am happy now. My life is full. But maybe this is a time for me to be grateful for everything and everyone that got me here.

Back then, people often asked me about working with my brother. They thought it was a bad business decision. “Business and family don’t mix.” is a popular sentiment. But that is a modern luxury. If you went back a few hundred years, everyone would have worked with their family. They would have had no other choice. I, for one, am glad that I got to work with my brother. It made me a better person. It was hard at times, yes. But the hardest part was seeing the uglier sides of myself. I once got very mad at him and yelled some very mean things. Afterwards I felt like I had kicked a puppy. When I was with the Friars, I had a “full circle” experience, or maybe I should call it a “Ghost of Christmas Past” experience. For a full year, at the monastery in Ireland, one of the Friars (who also wasn’t from Ireland) treated me the exact same way that I used to treat my brother. I couldn’t believe the similarities. Every time he berated me, I had a flashback to saying the same thing the same way to my brother. I came back from the Friars with my tail between my legs and I have been trying to be overly polite to my brother ever since.

Yesterday was the first time that I was with my brother and didn’t think about any of that. I didn’t think about the business at all. I just looked at him and felt safe in his presence. And I loved him for that. He must have been a very good brother.