The Sunday Memory Drawer - The Only Child

So, in our label-happy world, every day of the year is devoted to something.  I don't know who comes up with this nonsense.   There's probably even a day for them.  

"People Who Come Up With Ridiculous Stuff" Day.

And, of course, in our Facebook-laden worlds, these days and even more are regularly celebrated there.  Is there actually a schedule available that I can access?  Who is in charge?  Do they have a cell phone number?

And Facebook itself now has its own days.  The most notable of them is some dribble called "Throwback Thursday."  You're supposed to upload posts of you in previous times.   It's a fruit salad of big hair, curly moustaches, and bad acne.  Personally, I call it "Throw Up Thursday."   Because if I indeed showed you evidence of my past, that would be the reaction your body would have.

But I digress from Memoryland....

Recently, there was a mash-up of some national day and Throwback Thursday.  National Siblings Day.   Of course, Facebook went nuts.   Everybody and literally their brother posted old photos of siblings.  Brother and sister.  Sister and sister and sister.  Brother and sister and brother.  All with their arms around each other.   How special!

I salute all of you who have siblings.  Enjoy them until the day comes when your parents die and you wind up fighting over Dad's money or what dress Mom should be wearing in the casket.

Of course, this got me to thinking.   On the very next day, I posted my own remark on Facebook.

"Can I respectfully ask as to when we will be celebrating Only Child Day?"

Is that anywhere on Hallmark's calendar?  Anybody??  There is no response. 

And our loneliness continues.

But, truth be told, I have lived to tell the story.  It's not so bad.

Well, some of the time.

There's a natural stereotype that only children are spoiled rotten.  The popular argument is that these kids get all of the attention and don't have to share their toys.  Well, not true.  My parents did give me a lot of attention and that definitely did not work to my advantage.  I was focused on continually.  As a result, I frequently didn't have room to breathe.  I'd hide out in my grandparents' part of the house downstairs where there was always safety in their big couch next to the black-and-white television.

Yeah, I might have wanted a brother or a sister.  Just so my folks would have somebody else they could yell at.

There was one day where I asked the question.  And, please keep in mind that this was the era where children didn't necessarily ask their parents anything.  But I wanted to know if there was a brother or sister in my future.  I might have been four or five.   And, given my age, I got the scrubbed-down answer.

"God had only one seed to put on your mother's plate."

Oh, seriously????

In retrospect, I think about my parents' ages when I was born.  Both were already in their thirties.  Years and years later, my father made an out-of-left-field remark that my mother had a tough time getting pregnant.

Okay, too much information.  Let's head back to the more innocent years and focus on how I managed without.

On snowy or rainy days when I couldn't venture out to play with my friends in the neighborhood, I didn't necessarily need to have a brother or a sister to keep me occupied.  I had my fertile imagination.

I've written before of the adventures I concocted all by my lonesome.  I would take all the lawn furniture or party chairs and do my own personal set design.  Sometimes, I'd arrange it like a TV talk show with me as host.   Or I'd dream up a standard sitcom set that could easily be shot in front of a live studio audience with Yours Truly as Dick Van Dyke. 

It helped to mold me into who I am today.

There were isolated and lonely moments when I was a kid, but very infrequent.  I had television.  I had Colorforms.   And I had good friends "up the block" and at school.  Indeed, only children have the capacity to form tighter and closer bonds with others.  We might even appreciate relationships even more. 

It's not a scientific study but I have concluded that only children gravitate naturally to other older children.  Or the eldest child in a family who would have the same sensibilities as they can easily remember what it was like to be the only kid in a household.   As I look through my Filofax of addresses from my life, I think most of my really good friends fall into one of those two categories.

So, childhood as an "only" wasn't so hard.  But you feel it more as you get older.   And your parents get older.  You suddenly realize that you're it on that day when the evolution of life intervenes and your role does reverse.   When health issues come into play and your mom or dad becomes the child and you are thrust into the parental position.  

You come to grips that it's up to you and nobody else to make a life decision.  The bad news is that it's all you.  The good news is that it's all you.   There is no one to argue your choice with.  There is no need for compromise.  It's all your responsibility.  And you live with that.

I have quite a few friends who have siblings.  In a lot of cases, there have been skirmishes that tear apart the whole family.  They fight over issues involving their parents.   Some wind up not speaking for years.  My father and his own brother did exactly that.  Ironically, all of that drama got them nowhere.  They both died within days of each other.  Not speaking.

I had nobody to fight with.  And I did get support during those times of crisis.  From my closest friends.  Some of them only children.  They get it.

Of course, the solitude can get compounded when you don't even get the benefit of that extended family called the "in-laws."  If you're not married, it's even quieter.  A bad thing.  But, in the ying and yang of our cluttered worlds, sometimes a good thing.

You hold those closest friends then even tighter.  Those are relationships to savor.

A few years ago, a good friend of mine lost his only brother to an extended illness at a very premature and sad age.  At that time, my friend announced to me that he now was just like me.  An only child.

Oh, no, you're not. 

While his loss was great, he did, even for an abbreviated time, have a sibling relationship.  Something I will never have or come to appreciate.  It is truly a different world when that's been your whole life. 

So, as an only child considers his life, I see it neither as good or bad.   It has aspects of both.   They combine to offer the standard color of all of our lives.

Gray.

As we get older, I've been thinking about the friends I have held dear for many, many years.  Some still with me after we met at the age of five.   Others still joking and mailing after our first collision in college or at an early job.  In future Sundays, I'm going to be writing about some of these cherished relationships and then asking that person to do his or her version on the following Sunday.  As lives get shorter, you want to spend them with people who...well...get it.  They might be only children or the oldest of five.  But, friends, nevertheless.

In the meantime, this particular Sunday is all about the only children.  So, in our very exclusive club, I invoke a roll call.   And recognize the uniqueness that we all share.

Here's to you.  Barbara, Dolores, Donna, Patti, Lorraine, Elyse, the Bibster, Bob, Gary, Larry, Amy, Djinn from the Bronx, Lauren. 

And anybody else who didn't have a sibling photo for "Throw Up Thursday" on Facebook.

Dinner last night:  Pepperoni pizza at Stella Barra.