big sister, beamin’
by bam
there are four of them, the brothers in my life. and, mostly, back in the early days, it seems, we made like some sort of appendaged amoeba. i mean there were skinny arms and banged-up knees sticking out from wherever we were tumbling. but we were mostly one.
into the station wagon we fell, en masse. an elbow, maybe poking someone in the eye. a knee in someone’s rib. but little bottoms all lined up and squishing for a piece of seat.
same thing at lunch: into the bench we plopped to slurp our chicken noodle soup. and church, definitely in the pews at church, we were wiggly, squirmy, big-eyed bunch, a single serpentine.
i always was, still am, the only girl. i had my own terrain to struggle through. had no one in the house to learn the girlie ways from. once walked across a frozen tundra–or so it seemed that subzero afternoon, the wind against my neck–to sneak home my first palette of every-color shadow for my lids. then locked the door, up in my room, and tried to figure, just what the heck to do, and not get caught with baby blue smeared above my eyeballs.
the boys, though, were as much a part of me as my curly hair. even though i wasn’t oldest, i was, in ways, the big sister. i made mistakes before the others. i stirred some dust, slammed doors. i took care of them, sometimes. i cooked and made them little menus. when they were really little i dressed them up in all the baby clothes. i rocked the littlest one, once he came, didn’t want to lay him down. held his hand, the night my papa died. sealed our hearts forever.
as we grew, we’ve grown to scatter all across the country. and in other ways as well. we’ve got red states, blue states. one who flies a plane, and one who plays piano. one who soaks up everything he reads, and one who seems to master anything he touches.
he’s the little one above, the one i’m holding by the hand. the one i’m standing there beside, believing in him wholly.
he’s the one right now i am feeling mighty proud of. he is, you see, the one who’s always found his muse in making beauty with his hands: he paints, he drums, he cooks, he gardens. he sculpts, and crafts with wood. he also makes outrageous beauty with the words he puts upon the page.
it was right here, at this blessed table, that we read him many mornings. people asked me, who is that? who writes such lovely missives? who pierces all our souls with the way he cobbles thought, sculpts words into lasting pictures?
my little brother, now a man with sturdy hands, strong heart, he sat down to a keyboard, and wrote a tale of building me a bench. it was wise and clear and pure. it was rife with wit, like he is. and precise in every word–he wrote that the bentwood arm is made of cherry shaved in razor-thin slices “like prosciutto,” an image i will never lose.
it seems the world looked up and noticed. put his name high above his words, on the front page of a whole section of the newspaper. and readers by the dozens have been writing in, saying, oh, what blessed beauty.
i am the big sister who once held his hand, and tried to keep his toddling self from listing to the ground. he, along with all the brothers, once swept me down the wedding aisle, the wings to my great flight.
i believe now i am standing, looking up. my little brother, now a man, is off the ground, and soaring.
i couldn’t be more proud.
i am, after all these years, the big sister long believin’. only i am not alone. whole lot of folks now see what i saw. and i am, still, big sister beamin’.
do you have a brother, or two or three, or seven, who lift you off the ground? who make you laugh like no one else? who know you deep and deeper? or, do you have a big sister? did she, does she, believe in you? or is there someone else who’s taken on the task of reminding you when you teeter that you are something rather gorgeous?
if you’d like to read my brother’s story, i saved it here for you. it’s paired with one that i wrote, that you first read right here on the chair. bless all of you who found us in the paper, where a shining light beamed down on the big-eyed, beautiful boy i call my brother.
i just had to put up that scrumptious photo because it melts my heart. the tribune cut out our little heads and floated each of us inside our essays. but the whole picture was missing there, and it just seems essential.
sweet david, what a flight…..go now, my love, and write your way, past sun and moon and stars, the heavens and beyond are yours…
7 comments:
pjv
Oh goodness, what beautiful writing. How can one family possess such talent, not just for writing but for all things creative? There must’ve been something magical in the water there at the Mahany house …
Maine-iac … waaaaay too funny …… thanks for the chuckle, David, and thanks for appreciating the beauty of wood. Your talent doesn’t stop there. Your writing is so pure.
Monday, April 7, 2008 – 10:17 AM
mindy
Oh what luscious writing the two of you!! My fingertips tingle imagining the smooth surface of this labor of love, and my heart warms hearing the fondness, and the moments fully lived, that are a part of this bench’s history and future. Thank you.
Yes, my wonderful big brother used to “give me a boost,” just enough to catch hold of the lowest limb of the maple tree, so I could climb high. He still does.
My prayer for every child is to have someone to hold their hand, to steady their faltering steps, to give them a boost, to look into their eyes, to cheer and correct and encourage, so that all the youngers might soar!
Blessings to you
Monday, April 7, 2008 – 11:47 AM
pjv
There are seven siblings in my family – five girls with bookend boys. Being the oldest girl gave me many memories as described above … like you, bam, one older brother who was my protector and a baby brother who could do no wrong in my eyes and whose feet didn’t touch the ground until he went to Kindergarten (he lived on my hip). Today, those boys are successful business owners, wonderful fathers and well respected, fine men. I find myself beamin’ today, too. Thanks for the reminder ……………
Monday, April 7, 2008 – 11:56 AM
slj
i had to write bam about this sibling masterpiece yesterday and I share some of those thoughts with you here today.
i also say a toast for my sister in VA and brother in MN
Once again you offer to the world the power that storytelling is never a solitary event. I LOVED the combination of your tales of receiving an heirloom and your brother crafting a gift for you. I am certain, even without meeting your brother, that the gifting and grace moved both from Maine to Chicago and Chicago to Maine. Just as a weaver brings together fabrics to form a tapestry, the two of you bring together fluid hearts and solid organic materials to form masterpieces of authentic living and relationships. I love that the nicks and scratches over the year will help the wood return to its patina origins. There is grace in the knowledge that the bruises and scars of life somehow help us to return to our most primeval and honest origins. I hope the bench can help those who inhabit this space to live with mercy for their own bumps and bruises in life.
Monday, April 7, 2008 – 02:01 PM
bam
amen to each of you……from arizona to rwanda to blessed, sacred slj just above…….i just reread your words, and sit here tingling. it is a holy thing to be born into a family, and never lose the heart strings that held you from the start. speaking of weaving, too, there are families you weave from those you love, the ones who cross your path and cross it again and again, until one day you look down and see you are in the thick of a tapestry of friends. bless you all. bless you……
Monday, April 7, 2008 – 04:52 PM
vam
what a wonderful story………what wonderful writers……..what wonderful siblings…….have i mentioned how ‘wonderful’ this all is??
oh, how wonderful it is to be a part of the ‘chair’………….thank you, bam, for this ‘wonderful’ creation of yours!
I have a big sister…….fourteen years bigger…….. she’s the only one………so when i came home wrapped in a blanket, on Christmas day, way back when, i was promptly deposited in big sister’s arms………. she had to take me on ‘dates’ with her…..yikes, can you imagine?…i still have the picture in my mind of being in the carseat between her and her then suitor, later husband……..that was when front seats were big benches and carseats had the two shiny chrome ‘hooks’ that fit over the seat backs…….. no five point harnesses then………..i also got to go on her girlfriend dates, the ones to the ‘rose room’ on ‘wood avenue’ in our hometown………. sometimes, while baby-sitting for me, she would apply the ‘rub on’ tattoos to various parts of my body……..tummy, cheeks, and yes, the other cheeks as well……….all the while trying to get me to stop giggling and squirming but to no avail…..we would save the ‘bottom’ tattoos for the grand finale of the ‘fashion show’ when mom came home…….
we lost our mom when i was still a teenager and ‘Bunny’ was charged with finishing the job of raising me…….which she did selflessly, while raising her own family………..when i was old enough to be a ‘friend’, not just a little sister, we were, pretty much, inseparable, we worked together, we shopped together, we’d go out on the town together, which meant we sometimes wound up in ‘shenanigans’ together….. we ‘earned?’ the nickname ‘arsenic and old lace’ (a reference to the movie sisters in the cary grant film of that name)……..always she was my big sister/friend/mom, supporting me, sometimes in more way$ than one, encouraging me, lifting me up, pushing me ‘out there’ into the center of the room and allowing me the spotlight………
seasons change, paths diverge, and we are now on opposite sides of the country with different lives and directions………
how does that happen???
i have a photo that does for me what the above photo does for you bam, it is framed and in our hutch…….Bunny with a bouffant, holding a big-eyed little girl in skyblue corduroy overalls…….i think i’ll go stare for awhile…..
it’s ‘wonderful’ (i need to find some new adjectives) to see siblings who while separated by many miles are still so close……..
BRAVO to you all……… what a precious gift to share………..
Monday, April 7, 2008 – 09:19 PM
jcv
You know, bam, you have a great family. I love the way you keep at it, always in touch, deeply entwined with each other. Sometimes it’s hard, with families. Sometimes we don’t want to be entwined, and sometimes we just fail to make the effort and even though we may not mind sibling communication–it is not actively bad–nevertheless without that effort things dry up and drift away. So you and your brothers are real role models for me. I’m far away from all my people, and all the initiating must come from me. But so what? Granted, there may not be a brilliant furniture maker in my family, but you know, they are my brothers, and that’s just that.
Friday, April 11, 2008 – 09:34 PM