When I Was Thirteen

On January 20, 1981, I turned thirteen (13) years old.  That seems like such a terrifying thing, but I don't know that I perceived it as such.  I was vaguely aware that something called "puberty" was assaulting me, & my skin was already not so great, though my voice would take its time changing & I wouldn't reach my full height until some time in high school.  Honestly, what might have been most noticeable to me at thirteen was how different I was not just from everyone else, but mainly from my own family.

Honestly, thirteen found me in one of my worst years of my life - I spoke a little about it last year when I talked about 1980 - but I didn't mention one class I had, my "Reading" class (a real middle school class), in which the teacher actively hated me.  She was a severe woman with a thick Southern accent who did everything she could to - well, not humiliate, but she did enjoy flustering me.  I remember one day we were doing crafts - so weird, in a reading class - & I clumsily spilled paper & glitter on the floor.  She made me stay after class - so I'd be late to my next class - & basically called me a dolt the entire time I tried to fix my mess.  It was a weird experience because, in general, teachers either liked me or they tolerated me.  For a teacher to be openly hostile to me frightened & confused me.

By the way, I remember her name: Mrs. Reeves.

But it is true that at thirteen I was about to make my first friend who'd stay my friend into adult life who wasn't also my little brother's friend.  A month or so ago, when I was talking to my wife about something, she mentioned that it was hard for her to understand that I once was close to my little brother, to whom I barely speak & haven't really talked to for years (we shared some conversation & memories at my sister's memorial in 2015, but haven't spoken at all really since I moved back to Texas).  But he & I spent the first ten or so years of our life together, doing things together, fighting, talking, playing.  It was obvious by the time I was thirteen that we weren't very much alike, but separating - having a life without the other - was something we gave up reluctantly.  Luckily, my mother had installed a mechanism which would make it easier.

Often people will be surprised that I have six siblings but am close to none.  My sister Pat, who died almost two years ago, was the sibling I was closest to, but that closeness came much later, in adulthood.  My sister Karin is much harder to get close to than Pat, & I am not sure why that is.  My four brothers, however, I have found impossible to have a relationship with.  & I think I know why.

My mother likes her boys - not so much her girls - tied to her apron strings.  One of the way she has done that - subconsciously or no - is to basically instill into each of her sons the idea that they are the most important person in the world - that they are phenomenal, without peer, exceptional, including in the looks department.  What happens when you do that with five boys?  Well, I believe that they begin to see the other brothers as something like rivals for the mother's attention & affection.  She obviously thinks the one the best; but she also has to spend time with the others.  You are competing for the most attention - & surely you can't be friends with your rivals, can you?

It has baffled me when I see siblings who are so close, so supportive, so kind to one another.  That doesn't happen in my family.  It's not just at my generation - my sister Pat once told me that my father barely kept in touch with his siblings (I have no way to know if that were true), & my mother recently told me she hasn't communicated with her deceased sister's son in almost two years.  & look at me - I have barely had a friendly exchange of words with any of my brothers in years.  I am certainly taking part in the role I've been given.

Of course I wasn't cognizant of any of this at thirteen, but I do know I was aware I was different.  My love of comic books & science fiction, as well as my growing interest in music, which was much more obsessive than my siblings', who were happy to like whatever was on the radio, was starting to set me apart.  I was, as they may have noted, a fat little weird nerd.  Possibly beyond saving.

There are more details about this year of my life tomorrow.  So sorry about that.