I just spent the weekend sharing time with 2 little brothers. One is my little bro and the other is my wife’s little bro. If either of these great guys were to meet me as strangers we would probably never have even a brief conversation. The fact we are bros “by law” puts in a relationship that provides the opportunity to also be friends. It is complicated but most families have the same “relative” situation. My “step” daughter (I use step only to make a point – not as differential) casually remarks that she is 1) an only child, 2) the oldest child, and 3) the youngest child in her family, which is absolutely true depending on which Brady Bunch branch you choose.

Having grandchildren has prompted a greater desire for me to make the family tree chart that is usually a middle school social studies assignment that often brings surprises. My tree however has two trunks: one trunk that has my birth family ancestry and one trunk that has my adopted namesake hierarchy. By law I was adopted, but by my recollection I was subscribed to a new last name. I simply was instructed that my name should be changed because “that’s what people round here know you by”. That was a true statement, but it was an odd legal occurrence being a teenager. So I too am an only child yet have 3 brothers and 3 sisters. The adjectives half and step are commonly used to differentiate.

Don’t get me wrong in interpreting my comments. I love my brothers dearly and they are truly my brothers. We fought the good fight together in a crazy unstable dysfunctional childhood. We had great adventures together and were blood brothers in every way. We would fight battles against each other but no one would dare come between us. Getting together with my little bro this weekend brought great feelings of “brotherhood” along with nasty tinges of guilt for staying aloof for too many years. We really don’t have anything in common except the common enemy which is a memory of lost time, and all the crack pot stupid boy things we used to do as kids. The childhood time we spent together was “the best of times, the worst of times” but it was our time together. No one can separate us from that period in our lives, nor do I wish they could, knowing how much that shaped our lives to come as we had our own families. I was an ass of a brother, but they loved me – crazy stuff, and I will always love them.

Now as for my wife’s little bro….