I really should be working right now, but writing about whatever I want and listening to my Pandora station is so much more appealing. Lately, I have been blogging about my childhood and stories about my brothers. Last night, I shared some memories of my older brother in honor of his pending nuptials. It was difficult to pay attention in statistics today, well especially difficult. I kept thinking about my brothers and how excited I am for November 18. My younger brother, Joshua, is the best man. So, following the theme of describing memories of my family, the following is a tribute to my younger sibling.
Oh Joshua, where do I even begin? I wish I remembered the day you came home from the hospital. I had just turned 2 four weeks prior to your birth. I have a photo of Christian and I, smiling from ear to ear at our new baby brother. Suddenly, I became the middle child and the only girl.
You were the child that made our mother's hair turn gray. You were very naughty. Once, you threw tipped the cat box over onto a pile of clean clothes. You terrorized my cat Snertz by trapping her under laundry baskets and you even through her down the laundry shoot once.
Remember when you pushed the frozen 23 lb Thanksgiving turkey down the stairs? Mom and dad brought it in and I watched you push it over the first stair. It made a large crash and a huge hole in the wall at the base of the stairs.
Remember when I dressed you up in my Hawaiian print dress and put mom's makeup on you?
Remember when you would fill buckets and cups with water in the tub and splash it out?
"JOSHUA! Are you splashing water out of the tub??!" yelled our mother.
SPLASH! SPLASH!
"No!" you replied.
You drove me absolutely nuts when were children. You continued to bother me when we were teenagers. You would come into my room and never leave. You were relentless!
"Erin, I'll leave when you tell me how many seeds are in an apple," you would say. You terrorized me with household objects. You used to whack me with wrapping paper tubes and anything you could find. Remember when you whipped me with that plastic thing?
"Erin, if you say I am the whipper man! I will leave you alone!"
When your bedroom was moved downstairs, you refused to sleep down there. You would sneak into my bedroom and sleep on the floor. I protested, but mom just told me to shut up and let you sleep there.
We fought violently. We punched and kicked. We exchanged extremely harsh words. We had screaming matches for the whole neighborhood to hear.
Mom and dad bought you your first paintball gun one Christmas. I was terrified. Sure enough, you shot me a few times.
"Erin, open the door," you said outside my bedroom. As soon as I opened it, you shot me in the chest with the paintball gun. Another time, I was sitting at the family computer, minding my own business, when I looked over at you. You were crouched on the floor and orange paint was everywhere! On my legs, all over the floor. You didn't even get in trouble! I had a welt on my thigh.
Before the paintball guns, you had a rubber band rifle. You shot me in the eye. It hit me about a millimeter below my eye.
If I tried to lock you out of my room, you went outside and retrieved the ladder to climb up through the window.
Remember when you lit a bottle rocket off in the kitchen sink?
Remember when you put a hashbrown patty in the microwave for 20 minutes instead of 2? It started on fire and black smoke poured out of the microwave.
But, sometimes we were the best of friends. You could always make me laugh. We loved quoting our favorite movies. We loved the movie North.
Remember the mickey mouse game and zombies ate my neighbors? Remember when we convinced mom to let us stay up late on a school night so we could beat the mickey game? Remember when we watched the Grinch over and over again?
When I got my first camera from Grandpa Fisher for Christmas, you were obsessed with taking pictures of your butt.
We made plays together and dreamed up amazing stories. We played vampires.
Remember the Mickey Mouse Halloween and Christmas movies? We loved watching those together.
You visited me a number of times my junior year of college when I lived in the house off Como Ave. We partied and you hung out with my friends.
When you turned 21 this summer, mom said to me, "I'm so glad we made it here, it was a little hairy for a while."
It's true Josh, you have certainly come a long way. Recently, you and I have had some wonderful conversations. You are becoming interested in science and global happenings. I told Blake how impressed I was at the things you now know.
I cannot believe that you spent 2.5 months alone in San Francisco. You are a very talented jeweler. I am so proud of you.
I really miss you. When we were growing up, our parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles reassured me that someday, you and I were going to be the best of friends. I protested, saying that you drove me nuts and I would never be your best friend. I guess they knew something I did not.
I am impressed at how far you have come. When I think back to all of our fights, all of the tears and harsh words, I can't believe we made it here. I am so glad.
When I moved to Texas, something amazing happened. All of the anger I held towards you and all of the members of our family just floated away. What happened, happened. I cannot change the past, I can only move forward.
I am happy that you are my brother. I just wish I could see you more. I can't wait for November.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
The Wedding, part II and stories of the Scientist's older brother
Writing is a relief. I find solace in the words, flowing from my cerebral cortex out of my fingertips.
The wedding is drawing closer. The next few weekends will bring numerous wedding showers. Gifts with my name on it are there. Yet, I am the ghost bridesmaid, off somewhere, unable to participate in the pre-wedding festivities.
Soon, a plane will take me North. I will have the privilege to witness my brother upcoming nuptials. Oh, how wonderful and surreal! My brother getting married?! Remember when we were just children? As the oldest, you occasionally had the task of watching your two younger siblings. Once, you locked Josh and I out the house on a summer's day while our mom was at work. We swam in the backyard pool in our clothes while you enjoyed the air conditioner and the absence of your younger siblings.
One fall day, you, Josh and I were playing football on the hill next to the house. You were wearing your shoulder pads. I was not wearing any protective equipment. You ran at me, full speed, with your characteristic smirk and tackled me down the hill.
Whenever I think of us as children, your GI Joe figurines come to mind. Along with Super Nintendo, Donkey Kong, and Top Gun. Remember when you and I were in the same junior high? You were in 9th grade and I was in 7th. The first time I saw you in school, I approached you at your locker and said, "hi!" You told me not to talk to you.
Remember when you drove the saturn? I became tolerant of rock music after riding in your car (Mom forced you to help chauffeur Josh and I around). Once, you picked me up from cheerleading practice in the escort wagon. You left the passenger side window open the night before and it rained. I got in the car and sat down in a soaking seat.
Remember your long, curly hair and tube socks? I wish I had photo to post.
When I made it to high school, you were a senior. This time, you actually talked to me. It pleased your female friends. You had a great group of buddies when you were in high school. I thought you were so cool. I was envious.
When you and I were growing up, we stayed out of each others way. I do not recall us fighting very often. You and I were not very close. Josh and I fought and interacted constantly, but you and I, well we did our own things.
One 4th of July holiday, you were drunk and a angry drunken Nancy who fell into a mud puddle had passed out. We hung out for the rest of the night. You tried to tell us scary stories about Alien but it was entertaining and hilarious instead.
The first time we had a deep conversation as adults only happened two years ago. You told me to call you anytime I needed to talk.
This past Independence Day, you gave me a hug and told me your were very proud of me for attending graduate school.
I still cannot believe that you are getting married. We may have avoided each other as kids, but let's be friends as adults. After all, so the story goes, you were my first friend. My baby book says that you were enamored with me as an infant.
I can't wait to see you up there on the altar and I can't wait to celebrate with you.
The wedding is drawing closer. The next few weekends will bring numerous wedding showers. Gifts with my name on it are there. Yet, I am the ghost bridesmaid, off somewhere, unable to participate in the pre-wedding festivities.
Soon, a plane will take me North. I will have the privilege to witness my brother upcoming nuptials. Oh, how wonderful and surreal! My brother getting married?! Remember when we were just children? As the oldest, you occasionally had the task of watching your two younger siblings. Once, you locked Josh and I out the house on a summer's day while our mom was at work. We swam in the backyard pool in our clothes while you enjoyed the air conditioner and the absence of your younger siblings.
One fall day, you, Josh and I were playing football on the hill next to the house. You were wearing your shoulder pads. I was not wearing any protective equipment. You ran at me, full speed, with your characteristic smirk and tackled me down the hill.
Whenever I think of us as children, your GI Joe figurines come to mind. Along with Super Nintendo, Donkey Kong, and Top Gun. Remember when you and I were in the same junior high? You were in 9th grade and I was in 7th. The first time I saw you in school, I approached you at your locker and said, "hi!" You told me not to talk to you.
Remember when you drove the saturn? I became tolerant of rock music after riding in your car (Mom forced you to help chauffeur Josh and I around). Once, you picked me up from cheerleading practice in the escort wagon. You left the passenger side window open the night before and it rained. I got in the car and sat down in a soaking seat.
Remember your long, curly hair and tube socks? I wish I had photo to post.
When I made it to high school, you were a senior. This time, you actually talked to me. It pleased your female friends. You had a great group of buddies when you were in high school. I thought you were so cool. I was envious.
When you and I were growing up, we stayed out of each others way. I do not recall us fighting very often. You and I were not very close. Josh and I fought and interacted constantly, but you and I, well we did our own things.
One 4th of July holiday, you were drunk and a angry drunken Nancy who fell into a mud puddle had passed out. We hung out for the rest of the night. You tried to tell us scary stories about Alien but it was entertaining and hilarious instead.
The first time we had a deep conversation as adults only happened two years ago. You told me to call you anytime I needed to talk.
This past Independence Day, you gave me a hug and told me your were very proud of me for attending graduate school.
I still cannot believe that you are getting married. We may have avoided each other as kids, but let's be friends as adults. After all, so the story goes, you were my first friend. My baby book says that you were enamored with me as an infant.
I can't wait to see you up there on the altar and I can't wait to celebrate with you.
More tales from the Loquacious Northern Girl in the Land of Y'all
I am awash in the ocean of graduate school. I bob up and down as the days float by, amid freshman biology assignments, scientific literature and loggerhead shrikes. Excitement and anxiety fill me simultaneously, nearly constantly. Fortunately, the emotion of excitement is larger than the other.
My thoughts buzz around in my head, bouncing here and there off the walls of my cerebral cortex. So many ideas, so little time.
Since July, I have had the same dream over and over. I am back in Minnesota for some untold reason and I must return to Texas. The details vary, sometimes I have left the rats, sometimes I have the cats in MN, sometimes Blake is there. But, the main plot remains constant.
I haven't had this dream in a few nights. It seems that wild and vivid dreams are back in my nightly repertoire. I dream about strikingly orange tigers, orca whales eating sea otters and bottlenose dolphins at an aquarium, lions with extravagant manes, and various other creatures. The dreams are horrific and fantastic, filled with danger and mystery.
The Texas autumn has been warm and perfect. I am amused at the fall attire of the Texans. To be fair, the temperature drops to a low 55-65 degrees at night and in the morning. The sight of fall sweaters, jackets and boots is delightful to see, but it still reaches 80 during the day. I love when I hear a Texan say, "it's getting cold!" Giggles echo inside my brain. You won't catch me wearing long sleeves, not just yet. The crisp temperatures of the morning and evening remind me of my beloved place of birth.
The loquacious Northern girl attracts giggles and amusement from the Texans when words like bag, lag, agriculture, Minnesota leave her mouth.
I recently discovered Pandora, potentially one of the best things to come out of the recent technological flurry. I just want to jam. Who needs to work when you can listen to music instead?
My thoughts buzz around in my head, bouncing here and there off the walls of my cerebral cortex. So many ideas, so little time.
Since July, I have had the same dream over and over. I am back in Minnesota for some untold reason and I must return to Texas. The details vary, sometimes I have left the rats, sometimes I have the cats in MN, sometimes Blake is there. But, the main plot remains constant.
I haven't had this dream in a few nights. It seems that wild and vivid dreams are back in my nightly repertoire. I dream about strikingly orange tigers, orca whales eating sea otters and bottlenose dolphins at an aquarium, lions with extravagant manes, and various other creatures. The dreams are horrific and fantastic, filled with danger and mystery.
The Texas autumn has been warm and perfect. I am amused at the fall attire of the Texans. To be fair, the temperature drops to a low 55-65 degrees at night and in the morning. The sight of fall sweaters, jackets and boots is delightful to see, but it still reaches 80 during the day. I love when I hear a Texan say, "it's getting cold!" Giggles echo inside my brain. You won't catch me wearing long sleeves, not just yet. The crisp temperatures of the morning and evening remind me of my beloved place of birth.
The loquacious Northern girl attracts giggles and amusement from the Texans when words like bag, lag, agriculture, Minnesota leave her mouth.
I recently discovered Pandora, potentially one of the best things to come out of the recent technological flurry. I just want to jam. Who needs to work when you can listen to music instead?
Monday, October 18, 2010
The road life takes
"Dude, I hear that Austin is where all the liberals are in TX," remarked my dear friend.
"Yea, if I HAD to live in TX, I would absolutely live around Austin," I replied.
At the time, my plan to attend graduate school in TX was nonexistent. Life is funny.
In exactly one month, Blake and I will leave from Austin, TX on a jet plane to Minneapolis, MN. I am giddy and excited, like a child on a holiday. I am imaging the reunion with the people I left behind. The idea of my brother and Nancy standing at the altar, reciting their vows, seems surreal and magical. I just can't wait.
Blake and I decided to stay in San Marcos for Christmas. It makes me sad, but I am looking forward to beginning new traditions, here, deep in the heart of Texas, with Blake and our family of assorted vertebrates.
Yesterday evening, on my journey to the HEB, a train forced the cars to wait.
"Ping, ping, ping, ping," screeches the train as the wheels roll along the rusty bronze tracks. Whenever I see a train, I think of my grandfather. He worked for Burlington Northern. My first experience of Texas was visiting my late grandparents in Fort Worth when I was a small child.
The reality that I reside in San Marcos, TX still feels like a dream. After nearly 3.5 months, it still does not seem real. The thought still amazes me. Not a day goes by that I do not ponder how fantastically crazy my life has become. Somehow, this move has brought me closer to my family members. I talked to my grandmother for over an hour on Saturday. We talked about Bill Maher, birds, black bears, top soil erosion, and politics. Seventy-four years old and she is as sharp and brilliant as ever.
I cannot wait for the moment when my fantasy of the reunion with my parents, brothers, and the rest of my family becomes a reality.
Oh, how far I have come! Dare I say it, I am happy.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
The Scientist's Parents
When I was a child, there was a play room in the basement of my mother's house that was filled with toys of all sorts, dozens of barbies, GI Joe figurines, toy cars, dolls, legos, and much more. I had a beautiful American Girl doll complete with multiple outfits and a doll-sized bed. If my doll was not occupying the bed, my cat Snertz would gladly take my doll's place. My brothers and I are very lucky, indeed.
My mother is an avid reader. So, we also had a bountiful collection of books. Books about animals, books about history, books about dinosaurs. There were books with fantastic and terrifying tales!
I was a highly imaginative child. I made up stories and danced around the basement wearing princess dresses. Sometimes, I imagined I was a witch with awesome powers! Other times, I pretended I was a vampire and other mythical creatures. I was the girl with wild hair and a wild imagination.
When 3 years of age came to pass, I was enrolled in dance lessons. How I loved performing on stage! I loved the brilliant fabric and colors of the costumes. The stage was calling for me.
The mother and father gladly paid for these (expensive) hobbies, as well as played chauffeur.
My parents gave me Cats! for Christmas one year. I watched it everyday for the remainder of the winter.
One of my favorite rituals was my mother reading from my favorite fairy tale book.
"Read more!" I said joyfully.
"It's time for bed, Erin," my mother replied.
"But, I want to hear more stories!" I protested.
When I spent the weekend at my dad's house with my two brothers and two step brothers, we would all eat dinner together. I was enamored with my dad's tales of growing up in an exotic land called Hawai'i. He told us stories about the brothers at the Catholic school he attended and about him making boar sounds to California tourists in the forest.
"Dad, tell the story again! I want to hear the story about the spider in the phone booth!!!" I would beg him enthusiastically.
I do not recall my father reading novels, but he loved photo books of space, of animals, of history, anything interesting! We even gave him books of this sort as gifts a few times. He had one on ancient structures from all over the world. Relics of peoples and a culture long gone. I poured over the photographs of Machu Picchu, Easter Island, Stonehenge, and the Pyramids at Giza, to name a few. I wished that someday, I would get the opportunity to travel to these wonders.
"Why? Why does that happen? But, WHY???" were common questions leaving my mouth.
"I don't know, Erin. Go look it up," was the common response.
My parents readily admitted when they did not know something and inadvertently encouraged me to discover the answer. They unknowingly gave me a priceless gift.
My father had a high interest in space. He had wonderful photo books about the vastness. He loves science fiction films, especially ones with extraterrestrial plots. I grew up fascinated with the universe.
"Dad, if you had the chance to travel to outer space, would you?" I asked him once.
"Absolutely," he replied.
"Good, me too."
My parents were never scientists, but they had a large role in me becoming one. Thank you, mom and dad, for captivating my imagination and providing me with all of those books to capture my attention. You fostered my need to know, helped me develop into an inquirer, a scientist.
Where would I be without you? You gave me the encouragement and support to turn my passion of inquiry into a career path. I cannot thank you enough. I love you.
My mother is an avid reader. So, we also had a bountiful collection of books. Books about animals, books about history, books about dinosaurs. There were books with fantastic and terrifying tales!
I was a highly imaginative child. I made up stories and danced around the basement wearing princess dresses. Sometimes, I imagined I was a witch with awesome powers! Other times, I pretended I was a vampire and other mythical creatures. I was the girl with wild hair and a wild imagination.
When 3 years of age came to pass, I was enrolled in dance lessons. How I loved performing on stage! I loved the brilliant fabric and colors of the costumes. The stage was calling for me.
The mother and father gladly paid for these (expensive) hobbies, as well as played chauffeur.
My parents gave me Cats! for Christmas one year. I watched it everyday for the remainder of the winter.
One of my favorite rituals was my mother reading from my favorite fairy tale book.
"Read more!" I said joyfully.
"It's time for bed, Erin," my mother replied.
"But, I want to hear more stories!" I protested.
When I spent the weekend at my dad's house with my two brothers and two step brothers, we would all eat dinner together. I was enamored with my dad's tales of growing up in an exotic land called Hawai'i. He told us stories about the brothers at the Catholic school he attended and about him making boar sounds to California tourists in the forest.
"Dad, tell the story again! I want to hear the story about the spider in the phone booth!!!" I would beg him enthusiastically.
I do not recall my father reading novels, but he loved photo books of space, of animals, of history, anything interesting! We even gave him books of this sort as gifts a few times. He had one on ancient structures from all over the world. Relics of peoples and a culture long gone. I poured over the photographs of Machu Picchu, Easter Island, Stonehenge, and the Pyramids at Giza, to name a few. I wished that someday, I would get the opportunity to travel to these wonders.
"Why? Why does that happen? But, WHY???" were common questions leaving my mouth.
"I don't know, Erin. Go look it up," was the common response.
My parents readily admitted when they did not know something and inadvertently encouraged me to discover the answer. They unknowingly gave me a priceless gift.
My father had a high interest in space. He had wonderful photo books about the vastness. He loves science fiction films, especially ones with extraterrestrial plots. I grew up fascinated with the universe.
"Dad, if you had the chance to travel to outer space, would you?" I asked him once.
"Absolutely," he replied.
"Good, me too."
My parents were never scientists, but they had a large role in me becoming one. Thank you, mom and dad, for captivating my imagination and providing me with all of those books to capture my attention. You fostered my need to know, helped me develop into an inquirer, a scientist.
Where would I be without you? You gave me the encouragement and support to turn my passion of inquiry into a career path. I cannot thank you enough. I love you.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
The Wedding, part I
Back in the spring of 2003, I was still an awkward teenager approaching my sixteenth birthday and the end of my first year in high school. For as long as I can remember, my father played softball on Tuesday nights at a suburban park in Apple Valley. As soon as my brothers reached the age of 18, they began playing, too.
One particular Tuesday, I joined my father and brothers at the fields like every week in the spring. My brother Christian pulled me aside before their second game and informed me that his friend from school is here to watch.
"Erin, see that girl over there," he said pointing towards the bleachers, "you should go talk to her. Her name is Nancy."
"You want me to just go over there and start talking to her? I don't even know her!" I protested.
"Just do it."
I complied and approached a long-haired brunette.
"Hello, I'm Erin, Christian's sister."
She greeted me and we held a conversation for a while. After the games finished and Nancy left, I asked my brother why he wanted me to talk to her. It seems this girl was the object of his affections. She had a boyfriend, however.
Five years later, I was spending my fourth of July at my family's cabin in northern Minnesota. Christian pulled his heavily intoxicated sister aside and said, "Erin, I am going to ask Nancy to marry me. How do you feel about that?"
"ARE YOU SERIOUS!!!??!? THAT IS GREAT! I AM SO HAPPY FOR YOU!" I exclaimed drunkenly while hugging my older brother.
The following month, the proposal plan was set. It was so romantic. I was glowing with happiness for my brother and his new fiancee.
Now, it is October 2010. Christian and Nancy are tying the knot in under two months. I could not be happier for them.
After they became officially engaged, I was astounded at my ability to feel so much happiness for people who are not me. My sheer joy almost brought me to tears. They asked me to be a part of their wedding and I accepted with honor. On November 20th, I am going to watch them get married. I imagine that I will feel the same selfless happiness and joy that I felt when I heard about their engagement.
These last few years have happened to coincidence with my own personal journey of discovery, that is still continuing today. I had my share of clashes with the woman who stole my brother, including nearly eight months of minimal contact.
Congratulations Nancy and Christian, I couldn't be happier for you.
One particular Tuesday, I joined my father and brothers at the fields like every week in the spring. My brother Christian pulled me aside before their second game and informed me that his friend from school is here to watch.
"Erin, see that girl over there," he said pointing towards the bleachers, "you should go talk to her. Her name is Nancy."
"You want me to just go over there and start talking to her? I don't even know her!" I protested.
"Just do it."
I complied and approached a long-haired brunette.
"Hello, I'm Erin, Christian's sister."
She greeted me and we held a conversation for a while. After the games finished and Nancy left, I asked my brother why he wanted me to talk to her. It seems this girl was the object of his affections. She had a boyfriend, however.
Five years later, I was spending my fourth of July at my family's cabin in northern Minnesota. Christian pulled his heavily intoxicated sister aside and said, "Erin, I am going to ask Nancy to marry me. How do you feel about that?"
"ARE YOU SERIOUS!!!??!? THAT IS GREAT! I AM SO HAPPY FOR YOU!" I exclaimed drunkenly while hugging my older brother.
The following month, the proposal plan was set. It was so romantic. I was glowing with happiness for my brother and his new fiancee.
Now, it is October 2010. Christian and Nancy are tying the knot in under two months. I could not be happier for them.
After they became officially engaged, I was astounded at my ability to feel so much happiness for people who are not me. My sheer joy almost brought me to tears. They asked me to be a part of their wedding and I accepted with honor. On November 20th, I am going to watch them get married. I imagine that I will feel the same selfless happiness and joy that I felt when I heard about their engagement.
These last few years have happened to coincidence with my own personal journey of discovery, that is still continuing today. I had my share of clashes with the woman who stole my brother, including nearly eight months of minimal contact.
Congratulations Nancy and Christian, I couldn't be happier for you.
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