Through Your Nose

I'm a middle child. I don't remember exactly what "they" say about middle children, but it's probably all true. I grew up between 2 boys who were amply supplied with creative genes. Ming, 4 years older, drew a lot, and went through a phase that involved building models; mostly cars, and quite an assortment of them. He also spent many hours developing his musical talent. If you've ever heard anyone try to learn percussion, you understand the unique kind of torture the rest of the family endured. I remember being absolutely ...................... no words.......... shocked, for lack of a better one, when my parents bought Ming his first snare drum. I just knew, even at my young age, that things were not going to be good for a very long time. Ming spent hours practicing in several garage bands. I can't believe the neighbors never drove us out of town. He actually developed an amazing talent on the drums, as well as many other kinds of rhythm instruments, but it was painful getting there. He also played the electric guitar, complete with a Gibson amp, turned up all the way. Are you noticing the theme? With Ming, it wasn't satisfying unless it was loud. And the louder the better. 

Bunns, 6 years my junior, is also extremely artistic. He's musical too, but has an appreciation for quieter things. Acoustic guitar as opposed to electric, jazz instead of all things head banger. He's quite good with water colors as well. Bunns is the more cerebral brother. Which got him into trouble over the years. Thinking too much isn't always good. Like the time he thought it would be a good idea to enter Ming's room and remove all the wheels from the models that had been so carefully built and displayed in a place that should have been out of reach. I don't think he did it to be ornery. I think he was just exploring and it turned into an archaeological dig. When Ming returned home from school to find the various pieces and parts that covered the surfaces of his room, he made a LOT of noise. I'm convinced that the only thing that spared little brother's life was the fact that Ming really loved him. Several years later, payback came at Bunns' wedding reception when Ming's toast involved a couple of tires removed from little brothers get away car. 

I grew up between these two, kind of like the little steel ball inside the old pinball machines. I spent my life going a hundred different directions and bouncing off the bumpers that were my brothers. I learned along the way that there was no place in life for drama, and pragmatism is the desired state in which to dwell. Those two tidbits have served me well. I think more like a man than a woman. "It is what it is, so just accept it and get on with it" is my mantra. I never learned to draw like the boys, and just recently, I realized that was because that requires sitting still for long periods. Remember the little steel ball? Yeah, not good at the sitting still thing. 

But my brothers creativity didn't stop with music and art. They were also united in finding ways to be entertained by my reactions to things. Poking me in the sides elicits a seizure like response which they found extremely funny. Jumping out from hiding places brought on near heart failure and then a quick smack if they didn't get out of the way in time. Drooling on me was always good for laughs. But their all time favorite, to this very day is getting me to pass things through my nose. Random comments at unexpected times always results in uproarious laughter and they never even have to get up from their chairs. It's a wonder I have any lining left in my nasal passages. 

Behold how good and pleasant it is

for brothers to dwell together in unity!

Ps. 133:1