Brotherly Love

Growing up in a large family can be crazy. Ours was certainly no exception.  In just shy of an 11 year span, my folks brought 7 kids into the world. Yes, we were Catholic.  I am the baby.  My brother Dennis, a year ahead of me in school and 18 months senior, was my best friend. I miss him more than I can even begin to express. 

Taking a line from Forrest Gump, Dennis and I were "like peas and carrots".  As kids, he was the one sibling who didn't tease me, beat me up, or generally make my life shitty.  We shared a love of  baseball, fishing, hiking, and sardine sandwiches. We were both very good artists, spending hours at the kitchen table together, drawing. We Loved the same TV shows; The Rifleman, The three stooges, Dragnet, Adam-12, and Monty Python movies.  Once, hiking in the local "sand Hills", we were sure we had discovered Noah's Ark. 

So often, it felt like Dennis and I against the world. We, the "babies" of the brood, seemingly were always "picked on" by the older siblings. My brother Pat was a pretty big kid, and could be a real bully at times.  Mom and Dad both worked, so things often got pretty bad, with the lack of adult supervision. Pat made a regular habit of pounding the crap out of Dennis and I. He usually started on Dennis, but I'd jump to his defense, and take a few punches for it.  Several years ago, my orthopedic surgeon looked at my ex-rays and expressed concern that I apparently  had 9 broken ribs, apparently all breaks from childhood. That illustrates the level of physicality in our "fights". Dennis had his Jaw dislocated once. I pounded the crap out of Pat, and actually gave him a bloody nose. Pat came at me and Dennis broke a lamp over his head. That's just how it was. We always had each other's back.  

In high school Dennis and I became involved in the Police Explorers, something of a Junior Police cadet program.  We both wanted to be cops. Now at that time, women in Police work were pretty much limited to office and custodial positions. Dennis actually hated the idea of women being "real cops", but he always supported me. "You're the exception" he'd say, "you can kick someone's ass, when you need to".  I could. Thank you, Pat, for the "fight club" training. We eventually did become cops, very close to the same time.  Another thing we shared. Only other cops know what that bond is, among us. For Dennis and I, it was double.

Over the years Dennis and I remained very close. We both went through divorces within a year of each other. I moved back to So. Cal for 18 months, and we hung out together, most every week end. We pissed and moaned about our exes, cried on each other's shoulders, and called each other out on our shit. We met our future spouses at about the same time, and later marred within a month of each other. We always seemed to be in sinc. I moved 1200 miles away, but we always talked, and Dennis and his wife most often took vacations here, and stayed with me. His Son and my oldest daughter are 2 months separate in age. Peas and Carrots.

Although I had virtually nothing in common with Dennis' new wife (except our names), I tried very hard to bond with her, and become friends. She's something of a "ding bat". Short, fickle, sissy-like. Crazy ass emotions, and totally not prepared for the direct banter of the "Casey family". She often expressed to me "shock" at things my Mother, or siblings would say or do.  Honestly, it was clear this woman came from a household of females. A fart would shock the hell out of her!  Hello... my family ate beans for dinner every  Saturday. The fart contests  capped off the evening.  Every week or so, Kathy Ann (Dennis' wife) would call me and complain about my family. She hated my Mom, my sisters, and especially my brother, Pat. I listened and sympathized with her plight, while trying to explain it all, and minimize her offense. Nothing I said ever made a difference. Rant after rant about my Mom, I finally told her I did not want to hear any more. I had no idea I'd ignited a bomb.

So much transpired over the next year or so, it would take weeks to write down. In spite of what I heard, I tried to stay out of it. I lived so far away, and had a sense of insulation by distance. But something came up, between me and another family member, who was living with me. It was our issue to resolve, and best left that way. But oddly, Dennis' wife, from 1200 miles away, injected herself in the middle of it.  My efforts to speak to her resulted in the *80 treatment (blocked call). She preferred to email, wherein she could rant and spew all things she "assumed" were going on, and what a horrible person I was, and always had been. I was offered no chance of rebuttal, but by this time it  had become pretty clear to me that this woman was not playing with a full deck. I'd never said a negative thing to her, or about her up to this point. But she made it very clear, I was now her enemy. 

Through this, my brother Dennis sat silent. I mean, seriously, he is a very intelligent man. He had to see what a whack job his wife was. She had, for all intents, cut him off from most of his family, by way of her irrational offense. Surely, Dennis would  steer her to a sensible direction. I tried calling him. No reponse. I tried several times. Kathy Ann sent me an email, directing me to leave Dennis alone. I was no longer his sister, and would he "not be permitted" to ever speak to me again. Nor, would I be allowed to speak to my nephew (from his first marriage), or their adopted son.  In spite of my attempts through other family members, so it has been. My sister in law did a few other things after that, that I can't even speak of. It just served to validate her "Crazy".

I have not spoken to my brother in nearly 5 years. Word has been passed that I love him, and miss him. My phone is on and my door is open. I've sent birthday cards, Christmas cards, received nothing.  I miss my brother more than anything. As with the passing of my father, I can not pick up the phone and "shoot the shit" with him. We cannot laugh and share the joys and frustrations of parenthood. He won't visit, and eat Oysters off the Bar B Que with me, go fishing, or just sit and drink a beer. Yet, he's not dead. I think it would be easier, if he was. Somehow, this would make more sense. I honestly have no idea what I ever did, or said to his wife, to bring on this isolation. I sometimes wonder what might happen, if I were to see him (and her) again. My Mom is 94. Sooner or later, our family will gather again. I'm not sure how I'll react to them, when I'm there. Should I beat the crap out of her, or him?