Story by Jon Stalnaker AKA The Studebaker Dude
Earlier this week was May 18th, a significant day on my calendar. Always has been. It is an easy date to remember because it is the birthday of my sister Viki and my brother Jim. You might think that they are twins since they have the same birthday, but no, my brother was born on my sister’s second birthday. I always thought that was cool, and they both enjoyed sharing the limelight on their special day. I was born a little more than three years and a month after my brother, and I was the end of the line.
Five children in just under 10 years was more than my mother wanted at the time. Lucky for me, there were no birth control pills back then, and in those days, abortions were mostly done in dark alleys. My mother actually confessed that to me after I had fully grown and could handle such a stark truth. I understood what she was saying and never took it as something I needed to share with my therapist. My mother loved me very much and was proud to call me her son, but in 1951, she struggled with it. My sister Bethie told me that when I was brought home from the hospital, my mom gave me to her (she was 8 at the time) and told her that she could take care of me. It was a delight for Bethie, and I didn’t know any better, so it was fine. I didn’t have to share that with my therapist either. But I do have a picture of me all dressed up as if I were her daughter. It didn’t mess me up, and I look at that picture from time to time with amusement. I had plenty to share with my therapist, but that was not one of the things either.
My two closest siblings were Viki and Jim, as Viki had 5 years on me and Jim had 3. We shared a room where all five of us and our parents lived in a two-bedroom home. My two older sisters, Valerie and Beth, shared the other bedroom while Mom and Dad slept on the fold-out couch in the living room. Eventually, Valerie went off to college and Beth started a family of her own. We could divide up the bedrooms by gender now, and Dad built two more bedrooms over his dream garage, so Mom and Dad finally got their own bedroom. Unfortunately for them, Papa was living with us by then. He had the other bedroom over the garage. Viki got her own room, and Jim and I got to have bunk beds. All this drama happened when I was a young boy so I never thought twice about it. During the years we shared the same bedroom, we were just 3 youngsters who liked to play with lizards and snakes and polliwogs and hang out down at the levy. We weren’t the neatest kids as I remember, and when they were burning the levy, we brought back a Gila Monster and put it in a terrarium. When it got loose in the room, we couldn’t find it amongst the mess of clothes on the floor. As I recall, we didn’t even tell Mom. We figured the snake in the room would eat it anyway.
I liked sharing the room with my brother, and I got the top bunk, which was fine with me, except when he would kick the top mattress with his feet and yell, “EARTHQUAKE!” Viki and Jim were always playing jokes on me, but I never saw it as mean. It was always done in jest, and I always knew there was love in it and not bullying. I woke up once with Jim cleaning shaving cream out of my ear with a Q-Tip. Turned out, he had learned a new trick from his friends, and he couldn’t wait to try it out on his kid brother. He was supposed to put the shaving cream in my hand and tickle my ear so I would get it all over my ear. Funny stuff, but I was sleeping on my arm and he couldn’t get it loose. He got frustrated and just put the shaving cream directly in my ear. I was still asleep, so he figured he couldn’t leave it like that and decided to clean it out. That was when I woke up.
I could go on and on with all the shenanigans we played on each other, but I’m running out of paper. All in fun and never mean-hearted. My childhood was filled with love, and we never called it that, but we all knew. I outlived both of them and miss them greatly, especially on May 18th.
