Bek

My sister has been on my case about not posting about her enough. She thinks I talk about my body hair too much. She wonders why I can't write more stories about her. I find all of this very odd, since most of her childhood was spent trying to avoid any sort of attention brought on by family. Actually, I think she spent a good portion of her childhood crying with embarrassment over something myself or my mother did.

This upcoming snowstorm reminded me of one such incident where I purposefully caused her shame.

When I was in first grade I had a babysitter who told me about a local, nearby hill that had the best sledding around. On a good snow day, it became a slick, thick sheet of ice. I had to go.

The next big storm of the season, I begged my mother to take me there. She bowed to the pressure and so she loaded my friend Jarred, my sister, and yours truly into the maroon station wagon.

When we arrived, I remember the parking lot full of kids running, red-cheeked, and full of excitement. I remember the feeling of energy in the air and the cool breeze. Before the car was even fully parked, I grabbed my blue plastic sled and ran for the first part of the hill. At age six, i was invincible.

In first grade I was still a really tiny kid. It wasn't until the summer of fourth grade that I discovered Beefaroni and Bobs Big Boy and chubbed up (forcing me to purchase my Bar Mitzvah suit from the "husky" section of Fleet's). At the top of the hill, I pounced on my sled and went flying. Quickly, the sheet of ice that the snow-hill had become took control over the sled, my tiny frame adding only enough weight for propulsion, and not enough for control. I started to spin, turning sideways, the entire sled veering to the left. Although I have no recollection of this, the hill was next to the high school football stadium, which was surrounded by an until then unnoticed chain link fence. The sled veered toward the fence. It flipped me around, and I hit the chain link, face first, somehow catching the bottom of the fence in my mouth. I was knocked completely unconscious. The next thing I knew, I was being carried into the ER, my mother screaming for help......

For my mother, the scene at the top of the hill played out something like this:

My mother, sister and friend Jared all ran to the hill after me, thinking they were in for a fun afternoon of sledding followed closely by hot chocolate. My mother watched as I hit the ice and started to loose control. She watched as I nailed the fence. She screamed my name. She screamed it a few times. Then she stole a sled from some kid (awesome) and came down after me. Helped by a couple of father's who were hanging around, they removed the fence from my mouth and carried me up to the car. My mother, directing my sister to stay behind with a known-adult, sped to the nearby hospital, where I was patched up.

For my sister, the scene played a little more like this:

After her annoying little brother jumped out of the car, Bek grabbed her own sled and walked slowly behind my mother, making sure that nobody would think she was related to or knew any of us. In fact, her hope was that, despite her bright pink snow suit and boots stuffed with plastic bag liners, the older kids would think that she was passing through, just another 8 1/2 year old on a smoke-break or back from a date with Chad Allen. Soon, she heard her mother (as usual) causing a scene. "God" she thought, "can't I go anywhere without her drawing attention TO ME?" In her mind, she re-lived a scene a few days before where, fearing that her son was stolen at the local kiddy-city, her mother walked the aisles screaming "Joshie!!" as loud as she could. At that moment, she could have killed to be whisked-away to the life she so desired, away from her annoying family, and living in a mansion with an indoor, rideable train set. Maybe she would even have a black butler.

Eventually, she made her way to the top of the hill, only to see her mother steal a sled from some cute older boy, and go down the hill herself. What was her mother thinking??? The older kids would make fun of her forever for this one. An old lady sledding? Just another stunt her mother was pulling to mortify her. Soon she realized that something was wrong with her brother. Was he hurt??? The action of the hill-side came to a halt as everyone attention focused on her mother and brother. Whatever happened, she felt, Josh MUST have done it on purpose. Soon her mother came storming up the hill, her brother draped over her shoulders, shoving kids, sleds, and parents out of the way. Tears of embarrassment filled Bek's eyes watching the scene. She started to tremble. She just knew, deep down, that whatever happened, she was going to have to move or run-away after this. There was no-way she was going to live this one down. The next thing she knew her mother was yelling at her (as if she did anything wrong?), telling her to stay behind with a neighbor, and she placed Josh in the car and drove off. There was no doubt about it, this was the WORST day of Bek's life.

Hey kid, watch out for Gizint.

A few years ago, when both of my folks were going though an unusually difficult time regarding their health, my father sat me down and talked about grandkids. Only half jokingly, he implored, "I don't care how you do it, or who you do it with, I want grandkids soon. I don't care who it is that you pick-up off the street to make this a reality." How very sweet. He even promised to help out financially since, at that time, I was hardly employed, and the employment stability of the proposed future-mother-of-my-children was directly tied to the level in which the Williams administration punished ladies of the night.

Thankfully, both of my parents have been in great health(physically) for some time, and my sister has since gotten hitched, so the responsibility for reproducing has fallen on her shoulders with the weight of 10 Passover briskets. My mother puts on her best old-Jewish mother voice and kvetches to her other old-Jewish mother friends "Ahch, she will never give me a grandchild!."

Well, all of that changed when a few months ago Bek found out that she will become a mother. My father cried when he found out, mother mother screamed, my aunt did this really funny dance and shouted "all right, all right!." (watch video here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=57L0YpsDgQ4)

My sister and I are super close. She is hands down the funniest person I know and we get along very well. But this was not always this case. She and I, especially as children, were very different. She could most often be found crying in public, tears streaming down her face, embarrassed at some benign action of my mothers (grinding with drunken Polish mummers during the mummers parade for example). I on the other hand, was a soft spoken, complacent kid, happy to ponder why tears came so easily to my sister.

As we got older, our relationship took on new dynamics. For example, my folks would often punish her for some transgression or another, and then would put me in charge of carrying out her punishment "Josh, Bek has been grounded from TV for the night, we are going out for a while, make sure she doesn't get near the TV." These actions would often leave me with bruises, broken skin or both.

Recently, she married a man, who like my mother, will happily embarrass her in public. He has a life-size Lawrence Taylor cutout, a once large collection of pleated pants, and a sense of humor directly connected to the degree in which my sister will get red in the face. He is a good man. Last Thanksgiving I witnessed a truly epic fight in which my sister discovered that the peanut butter she uses for breakfast was the same peanut butter that her husband dips their dogs bone into everyday. It was awesome. Back to the point of this long winded tale...

Bek is going to make a rad mother. But she will have to learn to deal with a child that will turn out almost exactly like me. Hairy, drawn to loud music, lover of beefaroni from a young age, critical of most events around him. It should be an interesting fit and one that I intend to laugh at and nurture with smiles, joy, and secret packages of metal records and leftist literature.