Sunday, November 27, 2005

Me-Me #10 - Family Matters



Welcome to another installment of, "Come ON -- tell me the WHOLE story!" otherwise known as "I love to talk about myself", and in a pinch can be called Me-Me Monday. The object of the game is to refer to your 101 Things About Me list, pick one of your "things" and tell the whole sordid tale.

I've had some requests for the image, and to make life easy for you, I've put it on my flickr page. Here's your sign ;)

Make sure you replace the parenthesis with < > .

(a href="http://funkybug.blogspot.com/")
(img src="http://static.flickr.com/29/43386062_d480de8e1d_o.jpg" border="0")(/a)

Remember... no "()", but "<>"


10. I have a sister.

That's her to the right, dancing with me, Scotty, and Joel on my wedding day. I chose this picture because other than shots of her an a very young age, this is the only time you'll see her genuinly smiling.

My sister Sandy is actually my half-sister. We share the same mother, but not the same father. She was the lucky one in that she grew up knowing both her parents. After my mom married the Sarge, Sandy was conceived. She would be the fifth child he was charged with raising, but the one and only biological child he would ever have. She was thus crowned Queen and Center of the Universe.

Growing up with a sibling four years younger who was indeed Q&CofU presented a bit of a challenge to our ability to properly bond. Likewise, she was everybit NOTHING at all like me. We had exactly two things in common: the same mother and the same address. She was prissy, I was sloppy. She was timid, I was adventurous. She was spoiled, I was tolerated.

When the Sarge died, he took her crown and title to the grave with him. She was appalled that the Universe no longer recognized her as a reigning deity. That's when she became the saddest person I have ever known. While my adult life has been relatively charmed, she has struggled to find her joy. She's still searching, and that makes me very sad for her.

Truthfully, my sister and I are not terribly close. We do not shop together. We do not call each other to complain about our kids or husbands. We rarely spend time together outside of necessity. Yet, as I get older, I'm finding that when we do get together, she laughs at my jokes. Actually, she laughs so hard that tears form in her sad little eyes. As I get older, I think I'm finally beginning to realize that while we do not share the same address, we share the same history.

That's my sister smiling. Look closely, because it doesn't happen very often. I'm trying my best to change that now.

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