Today, my older sister becomes even older. For a few short days, she will be 31, while I am still in my twenties. Gosh, it feels good to say that!
Natalie has been in my life from the beginning. I have many reasons to love her and be grateful for her. However, in keeping with tradition, I will list 31 of them, one for each of her 31 years. In random order.
1. I love that Natalie was tricked into believing that seat belts were mandatory on ten-speed bicycles, because that knowledge made me feel a little bit less of an idiot when I was conned into believing that Stevie Wonder wasn't really blind. Of course, she was eleven when she was duped and I was twenty-six, but still.
2. Natalie has the most luscious lips of anyone I've ever seen in real life. She rivals Angelina Jolie, and I love watching her drink from a soda can. Her lower lip goes nearly halfway down the can and I stare in bitter jealousy. My lips are thin as a g-string, but nowhere near as sexy.
3. Natalie let me drive her Ford Probe to school when I was in high school. I. Was. The. Bomb.
4. We used to share a queen sized bed when we were little, and on nights when we couldn't sleep we would take turns drawing pictures on each others backs with our fingers until we fell asleep. Now I'm all grown up and I still wish that someone would scratch my back to sleep.
5. Aside from my husband, I think Natalie might be the person on this Earth who I feel most comfortable with. Likely because she's been with me, stuck with me, like it or not, for most of our lives. (Natalie! It's still a majority! We're really not that old!)
6. She never got OVERLY angry when I stole her clothes.
7. She puts up with this guy, for which I'm grateful, because I enjoy having brothers-in-law who I can harass without worrying about offending.
8. I can tell her anything, and she finds a way to make me feel like what I told her is a normal thing. Lemme tell ya, a lot of the time, I'm pretty sure it's not.
9. She helped me through a stormy time. More than once.
10. Just yesterday she sent me a basket full of See's suckers because weeks ago I told her how much I was craving one and she remembered!
11. Sometimes she kept me out of trouble by being a good example of what NOT to do. Like lie to your parents really, really badly! :)
12. She traveled a really long way to be at my high school graduation and my wedding. That's probably something that most sisters do, but that doesn't make it less appreciated.
13. Natalie has always been beautiful on the outside, but she also shows me how to be beautiful on the inside.
14. There were times when Natalie had friends that didn't like me so much. I can understand that because I must have been pretty annoying trying to tag along all the time. But even when her friends were less than welcoming to me, I never felt like Natalie didn't love me and want me around. Not once.
15. Natalie does a rockin' impression of Julia Child. There's video to prove it.
16. I don't know if she does it very often anymore, but when she sings, it sounds good.
17. She is a really good housekeeper. She might argue that, but if she does then I'd just have to say she must be a really good faker because I have never had twins and a full time job and at the same time a spotless house. She has.
18. We live too far away right now, but talking to her on the phone or sending e-mails back and forth always makes me smile. Even on the days that are complete crap.
19. She is an excellent listener. A skill I need to work on.
20. We ran cross country together in high school and I'm pretty sure she hated it as much as I did. (So why did we do it? Who the heck knows?) So one time we told our coach we had dentist appointments and couldn't be at practice. We didn't - we were just ditching. Co-conspirators are a good thing. (Did we only do that once, Natalie?)
21. She has a great imagination. Remember the house that was Japan, Natalie? I'd explain that to the rest of you - but it would sound crazy.
22. Natalie always has my back, no matter what. Every time we started a new school together she checked on me to make sure I had someone to play with at recess and someone to sit with at lunch. I needed that. Still do sometimes.
23. She never complained about taking the male role when we performed ice skating routines in the living room. She really was the more feminine one, too, so this was rather selfless of her.
24. Natalie gave me one of the biggest laughs of my entire life because it was not only funny at the time, but it is still funny every time I think about it. It probably deserves it's own post, but to spare her feelings, I'll just say that the screaming from the kids in the McDonald's PlayLand was the icing on the cake. Good times, Nan!
25. Natalie is humble. Despite the fact that she has reasons piled upon reasons to be boastful or proud, she is anything but.
26. Natalie has excellent taste in movies and books. Except for those Robert Jordan ones. I just can't bring myself to do it.
27. Speaking of movies, there is nothing more fun when you're young than making spoofs of classic films. Together, along with our sister, Kellie, and several of our cousins, we have starred in independent films such as Illinois Smith, (inspired by Indiana Jones), Insane, (loosely based on Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho), and A Christmas Carol, (based on the book of the same name by Charles Dickens). Natalie played the villain in several of our movies, and they are priceless.
28. Natalie is super smart. Like, way smarter than I'll ever be. Like, you know? Her report cards always beat mine, too.
29. We were inseparable from the time we were little girls, and I feel like no matter how many miles are between us, we will always be close. Even when we're old and can't hear each other talking. We'll know what the other is saying. Most likely because I'll still be muttering swear words and she'll be telling me that everything will be okay.
30. Natalie cares more about other people than she does about herself. I think that when people are around her, they can feel her goodness and it makes them better people.
31. And here's the biggest one. All my life, Natalie has gotten to do things before I have. She got to stay up until nine o'clock when my bedtime was still eight thirty. She got to drive and date before me. Lots and lots of things that I always wished I could do first or at least do with her. And then I got married and had kids before her. I had three kids before she had any. And from the moment she became a mother two and a half years ago, I wished that she had gone first. Because as I watch her raise her children, I know that there are things I could have done better all along. She's always been my example and paved the road for me and now I just have to keep telling myself that it's not too late to be like her as a mother, too.
Natalie, I'm so glad you're my sister, and I'm glad you came first so that you could teach me all the good things that you have within you. Happy Birthday!
Two of my dad's favorite sayings when I was young were; "Don't touch that", (but he said it in French, so it sounded like "Na touche pa!"), and "I didn't raise a bunch of dogs to do my own barking". So we kept our hands off of anything that looked expensive, and we babysat.
My sister, Natalie and I were, if I remember correctly, 8 and 9 years old when my parents first began to leave our younger siblings in our care on Saturdays while they ran errands and ate fast food without us. You may think that we were too young for such a responsibility, but rest assured that my parents are very smart people who would not have left their two favorite children with Natalie and I unless they were absolutely sure that they would be safe. We fed Kellie and Joel Ramen Noodles for lunch nearly every Saturday, we taught them how to eat without the use of silverware, we showed them how fun it can be to pretend that the carpet was hot lava and jump from couch cushion to coffee table to couch, and all kinds of other intelligent and healthy activities. We had many adventures.
One Saturday, about a year after Natalie and I officially became the Saturday babysitters, we were doing our chores after Mom and Dad had left, and Kellie got to feeling like Natalie and I were unfairly making her do all the work. I don't remember whether that was the case or not, but Kellie was convinced that we were mean and rotten - so she packed a suitcase that was almost the same size as her six-year-old body, and declared that she was going to stay with Grandma, who lived about 4 blocks away. Natalie and I decided that the best thing to do would be to let her get on with it and hope that she chickened out so that we wouldn't get in trouble for losing her. Kellie started down the sidewalk with that suitcase full of frilly dresses and shiny black shoes, and with tears in her eyes she stomped towards the corner. Natalie and I watched from the front door, giggling and wondering how far she would get before she came running back. She was halfway past the neighbor's house when Kellie got scared and came back, sobbing and feeling worse than ever. I don't know about Natalie, but I felt very grown-up for having handled the situation in such an adult way.
About a year after that, I was eleven and we had begun to babysit for our siblings after dark. Mom and Dad were out late one evening picking up all the things we needed to go on a road trip the next morning, and we kids had settled in to watch a movie until they returned. At some point towards the middle of the movie something moved in my peripheral vision, and I looked over to the living room window which was covered only by a sheer curtain. There was a man standing there, just outside the glow of the porch light. His silhouette was still as he peered into our front room, and I became as motionless as he. He was just standing there, watching us. I was completely paralyzed with fear, and wondering all the while how to alert the rest of my siblings without provoking the man to get a closer look. I'm not sure if Natalie eventually noticed the man as well or if I was able to finally whisper some kind of alarm, but we all eventually stood up very quickly and rushed into the hallway where there were no windows for him to peep through. We stayed there, pulses racing, breaths shallow, waiting for the man to leave. Once or twice we peeked around the corner back into the living room, but the fear of that experience has wiped my memory of whether or not we ever left the hallway until Mom and Dad got home. The man eventually moved off into the shadows, where he bode his time until he could break into our neighbor's house, which he did. See what smart sitters Natalie and I were? The man left on his own - there was no need to call 911, or our parents. The neighbor took care of that when he gave her cause to do so. Who was I to make trouble for a man who had, at the time, done nothing wrong?
As scary as that episode was, our scariest experiences in babysitting happened in broad daylight and were self-inflicted. On Saturday afternoons, our parents would head out to do whatever it was they did every week when they left us, and Natalie and I would wait a good fifteen minutes to make sure that they weren't coming back for some forgotten item, and then we began to argue in urgent whispers.
"It's your turn!"
"No, I did it last week. Remember? I barely made it back before they came home!"
"Oh, right. But you're so much faster than I am - you go!"
"No! I'm scared. You go."
"Fine. I'll go. But I'm taking your bike."
So much anxiety! You see, we usually had a dollar or two to our names, and we craved Jolly Rancher Sticks like heroine addicts who were desperate for a fix. Cherry and Watermelon and Fire flavors were our true vices. Not so much the Grape or Sour Apple, but in a pinch they would do. In order to feed our addictions, either Natalie or I would need to stay with Kellie and Joel while the other went after the candy on our bike. It had to have been at least a mile, but my eleven-year-old grasp of distance was probably a little off. It was, regardless of actual distance, quite a journey.
When it fell upon my shoulders to secure the booty, I would start off by letting my adrenaline force my feet to pedal past the park that lay behind our house. I tried not to think of the boys who walked through the park wearing dark trench coats and chains, or the marijuana smoke that sometimes wafted through the trees, across the creek and into our backyard. I even tried not to think about the crawdads that sat upon the rocks under the bridge with all their millions of babies clinging to their underbellies and crawling all over the rotting leaves and mud.
Pedal faster, faster, faster.
After a few turns there was a straightaway that climbed a very slight hill. The sun was sometimes beginning it's decent by this time, and that added to my sense of urgency. I would pedal past a house where, oftentimes, two black girls would be standing in their front yard with a boom box blasting Salt n' Peppa's "Let's Talk About Sex". They were dressed in their scandalously tight jeans and midriff shirts, hips swinging in suggestive circles, and they were making up their own dance moves to the song. I was sure that I would be in deep trouble just for unintentionally listening to the lyrics of that song, so I tried to avert my eyes and shut off my ears. But I couldn't help oogling at their lurid moves and natural rhythm. I pedaled faster and faster, trying to escape the music.
"Let's talk about sex, baby,
Let's talk about you and me,"
(No! Must go faster!)
"Let's talk about all the good things and the bad things
That may be. Let's talk about sex..."
Where was those girls' mother? Why did they have to make this even worse for me?
Pedal, pedal, pedal. Hurry! Before they catch sight of you and try to give you a make-over and a dancing lesson!
Next came the most frightening and dangerous part of the trip: crossing Murray Boulevard. Murray was a very busy road with cars whizzing along at about 200 miles an hour, one lane, I believe, in each direction, maybe two, with a turning lane in the middle. I knew at this point that it was time to take a deep breath and wait. This part of the journey could not be rushed. You don't take your time and you could be squashed flat before you even reached the middle of the first lane. Look both ways...car coming...look again...might be enough time, but don't risk it....look both ways...this could be it...yeah, that truck is a good ways off...look once more, just to be sure...GO! I don't recall ever coming close to being hit, nor was I ever honked at, to the best of my recollection. Once across, it was just a few yards to the parking lot of the Circle K Mini-Mart.
Inside the Mini-Mart was row after row of dazzling candy displays. I passed the Mambas and the Bonkers and the Whatchamacallits, the SweeTarts, the Nerds and even the Bubblicious. On the very bottom shelf were the boxes of Jolly Rancher Sticks, all for fifteen cents each. On a good day we had enough money to get eight or ten of them, and then it was up to the check-out counter, where I held my breath hoping that the clerk wouldn't ask me where my parents were, or if I had come alone. I was too naive to know that Mini-Mart clerks rarely care about that type of thing.
The trip home was all about speed. Clutching a little paper sack filled with our spoils, eyes focused on the road ahead. If Mom and Dad had gotten home before the Candy Runner, there would surely be blistered butts and groundings and extra chores and all kinds of unpleasantry. There was absolutely more concern about getting home before Mom and Dad than there was about getting to the Mini-Mart without being abducted by a freak in the park or squished by a car. In fact, had one of us ever ridden up to the house to find the family minivan already parked in the driveway, I would hope that we would have been smart enough to just keep riding and never look back.
As it was, we never did get caught making one of our Jolly Rancher runs. The runner would arrive home, the three lucky ones who had stayed behind would finally stop praying for the runner's safe and undetected return, and we would all greedily choose a stick and then stash the rest in our bedroom closets, hidden in their paper sack until the next time Mom and Dad went out.
Those were the good ol' days when I was ignorant to the dangers of the world and completely hooked on those cinnamon flavored Jolly Ranchers.
I really hope my kids aren't as dumb as I was.
In the quiet hours between chaos and slumber, I lay and listen to the sounds of night. The breeze stroking the leaves on the trees to sleep and crickets singing their night-loving hymns. Summer nights are entrancing to anyone willing to fall prey to their spell-casting. Those crickets serenading me outside my window bring a rush of memories. I close my eyes as my mind staggers in attempt to keep up with the flashes and pictures running through my head. Campfires. Arriving home past curfew from a date. Listening to waves crash onto a dark shore. But one picture repeatedly pushes it's way to the back of my eyelids again and again, rudely forcing it's presence upon me.
The Toilet Paper Wars.
This was not the shadowy memory that I had hoped to linger upon, but I turned myself over to it, surrendering my hopes of a romantic recollection....
......Rural Battle Ground, Washington provided little in the way of entertainment in my day. My sister and friends and I would do anything during summer months to keep ourselves occupied with whatever didn't turn us into Country Bumpkins. That need to refrain from wearing giant belt buckles and listening to twangy music gave birth to the toilet paper wars. Dan and Scott, boys our age who lived about a half mile up the road, may have been the ones to spur the first attack, or it may have been us girls - I don't remember now, but there were many battles.
On one of those vengeful nights, Natalie and I had two friends over, Stephanie and Sandy. We erected a tent in the front yard of our house to deter any enemy activity. After all, who would dare toilet paper a house when the objects of your flirtatious offensive could be hiding just inside canvas walls that allowed in all kinds of suspicious noises? The four of us sat inside the tent and plotted our moves for the evening. The objective was simple; toilet paper Dan's house. But execution wouldn't be so easy because Dan and Scott might be expecting us. They could even be driving the road between our base and theirs, watching for our advance. We decided the best way to move would be to split in twos, walking up each side of the road towards our target, and dive into the ditch anytime a car approached from either direction to avoid being spotted by our foe. Gathering up our ammo, (copious ammounts of Charmin), we cautiously proceeded out of the tent and made our way towards the road.
The distance between our houses never seemed so far as when we were desperate to avoid detection. The chirping of our allies, the crickets, cheered us on with each adrenaline filled step and the moon was all that lit our way. It wasn't long at all before headlights appeared in the distance behind us and we all scrambled to lay as flat as possible in the deep trenches on either side of the pavement. Thoughts of roadkill and all varieties of insects and rodents plagued our minds as we waited for the car to pass. We could have been laying on anything in those ditches, but it was war. Sacrifice was necessity.
The car passed, and, hearts racing, we climbed from our hiding places and resumed the forge up the road. We had made it almost to the bottom of a little hill near the end of the road. Dan lived at the top of the incline - not far to go. Then, another car, rounding the corner right ahead of us! There was no time! We scattered in all directions. Headlights surrounded us in their revealing illumination. Each of us dove towards the ditch nearest us. Then a scream! The roar of a truck's engine passed us, we were safe. Then silence.
"Who screamed?" someone whispered in the welcomed darkness.
The reply came from Sandy. "This ditch is full of water! I'm soaking wet!"
Mouths covered to quiet our laughter, we watched Sandy crawl out of her ditch, dripping with filthy water. Poor Sandy had become the first casualty in The Toilet Paper Wars. She had selflessly helped us to avoid capture, and we were grateful.
At last, we made it to the enemy's camp. Cloaked in a hush, we unraveled the T.P. around bushes, lamp posts, fence railings and shrubs. We rolled it across the lawn in stripe and zig-zag patterns. Stealthily, we tossed the rolls into trees and the tissue cascaded back down to us like a glorious waterfall. We took just a moment to admire our work. The mission had been a success.
Back in the tent later that night, we excitedly munched on our rations of junk food and discussed when retaliation might be coming. No matter - we were the Masters, and we were ready to escalate the campaign to complete annihilation if necessary. With giddy enthusiasm, we settled into our sleeping bags to listen to those crickets pass the news of our victory to all the nocturnal world. And then we slept, confident that, for that night, we were impervious to raids from our worthy opponents.
