Back in the day when we lived in the same city for three years and were going to high school (not the same one), we used to hang out quite a bit. Life was fast and easy back then, played out in a basement hot-boxed haze of smoke, Led Zeppelin madly riffing away in the background. I was a bit of an awkward teenager - tall and thin, plenty of acne, loud and quiet at the wrong times. My cousin, on the other hand, was the wet dream of many a high school girl. He was a competetive swimmer, and although not as tall as I, he was a lean, well-built guy with nice features and a boyish grin. He was intelligent, somewhat quiet, and also a competetive skateboarder. Many a party took place in his parent's basement, where we all enjoyed the various excesses of youth (see: drugs, alcohol, sex, rock'n'roll). Besides enjoying his company as one of my better friends, I was fairly envious of Jake in those days - he was popular, got to party like it was 1999 while getting good grades, and left a trail of hot girlfriends in his wake.
Returning to the present, I welcomed Jake, my uncle and the little shy girl into our fairly new home. As long as it probably took him to acclimatise to the fact that I had a wife, house and suburban lifestyle, I had to adjust to him being a daddy. I just couldn't believe she was two already, this cute little curly-haired blonde angel, so shy and wispy. My cousin, who in conversation with his close group of friends had often stated that he would probably never settle down or have kids . . . he was someone's papa now, with all of the responsibilities inherent in the job description. It was kind of neat, to reflect on the big changes we had both been through in the last few years. Each of us had been wayward travellers in the game of life (in our different ways), and it was as if we had both rolled the dice and found ourselves landing on the square marked "You now settle down".
The whole family played catch up with each other on life news, and a great time was had by all.
. . . . . . . .
I didn't write about it at the time as I was insanely busy, but about a month ago, my long-lost half-brother dropped by Canada. He's the firstborn from my dad's first marriage, about 12 years older than I, and he lives in an idyllic mountainside mansion in the foothills overlooking Colorado. We hadn't seen each other for about 5 or 6 years, since our grandmother's funeral.
A former pro-athlete who excelled in every facet of life, my stepbrother V married an american-latvian girl and had two boys, and later adopted two more kids, a boy and a girl. He became an insanely successful motivational speaker and business trainer after a very successful business career, and upon meeting him, one is often reminded of a Tony Robbins infomercial. "Hi, I'm incredibly successful and have perfect teeth, nice to meet you!" (you stammer out a greeting) "Well that's GREEeeeeaaat!", followed by a huge smile, handpump and an intense eye-shining stare of cold hard enthusiasm.
He's a nice enough guy despite the superficiality, I find. One just has to try and ignore the stifling reek of success he continually projects . . . it's a conditioned reflex of the business he's in, and I know this first hand, having spent a short time working for him in the middle of my travels. The keynote speakers and business trainers of the corporate world are a largely frightening lot, and it's a wacky world of success story one-upmanship that I would never want to revisit.
He brought along his youngest, one of the two adopted kids I had never met, only seen in pictures. Nine year old Ray solemnly shook my hand as I remembered the only picture I had of him, a family photo that including a two-year old boy. V looked a bit older, with some grey hairs and, incredibly, a tiny paunch on his middle-aged, slim frame - but otherwise, he was unchanged. Except, maybe, more . . . subdued.
Maybe it was because I blew him away with my new position in life, but V seemed so genuinely pleased to hang out with the wife and I, and I have to say that I really enjoyed reconnecting with him as well. I'd like to think that my former opinion of V as a slightly smarmy and ungenuine person wasn't because of any jealousy over his many successes; but it certainly couldn't be excluded from the list of contributing factors of slight resentment, especially years ago. Or, maybe it was just that back then, he was so over the top in projecting his successful image, and I had been, in many ways, the doppleganger of corporate success. Either way, he really enjoyed meeting me as a happily married man, and we caught up on family affairs as well as filling in our own personal histories. He didn't answer everything with feigned enthusiasm and a "that's greeeeeaat" smile, and he seemed to have lost the annoying tics of the professional speaking industry. He was warm, asked thoughtful questions, and spoke to me as a peer. Ray seemed like a well-behaved, well-adjusted young lad, and it was cool to introduce myself as a never-before-met uncle from another country. It was a pleasant surprise to be able to speak so freely and nonchalantly with my half brother, and it was a very pleasant visit.
. . . . . . . .
It's fascinating how we all (well, most of us)grow up eventually. Where does the time go . . . ?
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