Thursday, June 3, 2010

When I was little, my sister, we'll call her RH., was tasked with taking care of me.  She is eleven years older than I, so you can imagine that her life was on a different track as a teenager than that of her obnoxious younger sibling with a big mouth and an attitude to match it.  It was rare she would lose her cool, and the worse it ever got was when she mashed spaghetti in my face for making a stink about dinner when my parents were both at work.  I thought she was going to get it for sure when my Mum came home.  I learned that sometimes, parents side with the sibling who's had enough.  It's the singular memory I have of pushing her too far.  I deserved it, I'm sure it wasn't the only time, but clearly it was a lesson that remained with me.  She inherited the patience from my mother.  All of it. 

Summers were the best, as it usually meant an extended stay at the beach, my other sister and I, to give our parents a break.  RH and her best friend Suzie would rent a place for a couple of weeks each summer.  She'd come and get us in her VW bugl, the smell of hay filled seats, sitting in the front seat (I don't recall wearing a seat belt) flipping the 8-tracks (Carol King, James Taylor, Carly Simon, Joni Mitchell, Jackson Brown, Neil Young).   To this day, the smell of hay in the warm sun yanks me back to those memories like they were yesterday.  There, we had the freedom to run, swim, burn, be loud. Their friends were always good to us and would indulge us in tossing us into the water, standing with us as the tide buried our feet; with each wave as we "sunk" deeper into the sand, swimming.  At night, we'd crash, hot with sunburn, our bellies full of steamed clams wherever there was room, and I would fall asleep listening to their secret world of laughter, hushed conversation, guitars playing, the clink of beer bottles. 

As I got older, we became closer spending time shopping in unique shops, craft fairs, or just driving around looking at houses, peeking in windows, over garden fences.  I have learned much from sister.  She has a great easy style and her house is filled with treasures that so many others, including myself would miss. I'd watch her when I was little, apply make-up, put together outfits for dates, choose jewelry.  There are scents that evoke memories of my sisters closet, or her long blond hair.  The best part, is she doesn't even know she possesses these talents, making her one of the most genuine, people I know, and my best friend.


At the urging of my friend McGee, who is the second original influence from my early life, RH and I have begun revisiting an idea that we have talked about, but never explored.  While the world is a mess, and the economy is souring, some would say why bother.  I say, "Why not?"  It is the little indulgences that can often make someone happy.  It is the act of creativity that leads to creating.  Who knows what it may inspire in us?  Who knows how we may ricochet from this into the world? 

I started this blog two years ago, and when we moved I took it back up again.  The act of simply moving uncorked the need for expression, not only in words, but in the nooks and crannies of my dwelling.  And so, while I cannot say how successful if at all we'll be, I can say that it will bring me closer once again to my sister, who was such an influence on my life and to two people I'd drifted away from.

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