In two weeks my brother, Daniel, and his wife, Marian, are coming from New York to visit us here in the Ozark hills. They will spend two days in Tulsa with my other brother, Dennis, and his family, before driving to Fayetteville to see our mother.
Ahhh . . . family mechanics.
There are only 3 of us kids. My two older brothers, twins, and myself. My mother is German with that ‘world domination’ gene flowing through her blood.
As an example, she gave birth to my premature twin brothers, October 11, 1958. Three years later, I was due in the month of September. The German in her objected to such unspeakable chaos, so she kept me in her womb until October 11th, my brothers’ third birthday. When I didn’t appear, she moved heavy furniture. It was 9 p.m. when I obeyed and scooted myself down the birth canal post-haste. I saluted on arrival and I haven’t gone to the bathroom since.
Even though my brothers are twins, they do not look alike. One is 2 inches short of 6 feet, has blond – now gray – hair, and blue eyes. This is Daniel, the one who is planning to drive down to visit.
As you can see, he has our mother’s smile.
My other brother, Dennis, is much shorter, has brown hair, brown eyes, and freckles.
To ensure that every family member gets to visit with Daniel and his wife, we split up. Putting us together under one roof never works. The last time we tried it, one third of us slept, one third listened attentively to Mom, and the last third went home because she was bored and in need of a cold drink – (Mom believes ice to be cubed straight from the Devil’s nipple. It’s a German thing).
Thursday, two weeks from now, it will be my turn to host my brother and his wife. I will cook lunch for them, and serve it up with plenty of ice.
I’m looking forward to it. . .