Blog: Following In Their Footsteps

The first day of the new school year is no different today than it was when I was going to school in the 1960s. I still remember the excitement and anticipation of new clothes, school supplies and the traditional first day of school photo in front of the house.

Little did I realize the consequences I faced following four older brothers. It started in kindergarten, and didn't end until I had graduated from high school.

On the first day of school during roll call, after my name was read, I could count on hearing that familiar moan from the teacher, followed by “Oh no – not another one!”

I spent the first few weeks of each new school year proving my innocence and defending my family name.

It didn't take me long to figure out who was to blame for my name being forever black-listed on the rolls of academia.

My brothers were like a pack of rambunctious puppies, inquisitive and always getting into trouble. But Jim, the youngest boy, was definitely the pit bull of the litter.

Jim was stubborn, bossy and the bane of my existence. Born with his fists ready to fly, he would mix it up with anyone who crossed his path, except his older brothers. That left me, the youngest, at the mercy of his tormenting. We quarreled and fought nonstop throughout our childhood.

Jim's good looks and charisma melted the girls' hearts and garnered him respect from the boys.

He did what he pleased – and asked for forgiveness afterwards. The consequences of his actions were sometimes swift and severe, but I believe he felt the crimes were worth the punishment.

As a teenager, he found work at a local gas station. He could rebuild any car engine, and was driving an old 1950s Oldsmobile around town long before he bothered to get a driver's license.

Sometimes, Jim drove me to piano lessons in that big old clunker. I was so proud to sit up in the front seat with him – until he drove past his buddies and made me duck down, so I wouldn't be seen.

One day I had had enough of his bullying, and it was payback time. While he was in the kitchen making a sandwich, I quietly inched up behind him and jabbed a hatpin into his rear — then ran for my life. He eventually caught me, but the punishment was worth the crime.

I spent a lot of years living down the antics of those four boys who went before me, but I'm not complaining, for now I have four men who will always stand behind me.