Column: Sibling revelry

Hardship Proves To Be A Gift

In the Easter morning video the girl, almost 6, benevolently leaves the easy-to-see colored eggs for her 3-year-old brother to collect. When he has difficulty finding some of them, she guides him with hints and sometimes a pointing finger. In the end, his basket has the bulk of the bounty compared to hers.

In many ways, the scene encapsulates the two decades that have followed: the big sister has always looked out for her little brother, even after he literally became bigger at 6-foot-3. Indeed, it is often the case even after we become adults that we remain locked in our childhood roles among family.

A week ago, a crisis struck. Let’s just say the bottom fell out of an Easter basket, spilling and breaking the dyed eggs. The girl, now a young woman, phoned from 2,200 miles away; “distraught” falls far shy in describing her emotional state.

It is times like this that a daughter needs her mother. However, because the latter was in a deadline vise at her work, the girl insisted she could manage and that Mom stay home.

Similarly, the daughter demanded that her dad also remain at home to help care for his own father – her beloved “Gramps” – who had just undergone knee replacement surgery. Briefly, the roles had been turned upside-down as the grown son became the father and the father became the son.

Lastly, the girl’s younger brother could surely not fly out to be by her side because he was physically and mentally exhausted, having arrived home the night before the crisis struck after traveling for 20 hours across 12 time zones following a five-week sojourn halfway around the globe.

While the parents discussed matters, the son went on-line at 10 p.m. and booked himself a flight; the last-minute ransom pricing causing him no pause. “She needs me,” he said simply, emphatically, as he hurriedly packed. In bed at midnight, he rose at 3 a.m. to make his 6:15 a.m. flight. Upon landing three time zones east he took a long bus ride and then a short taxi trip to her doorstep at 6 p.m.

To this sentimental fool it brought to mind the closing scene in “It’s A Wonderful Life” when Harry, a Navy pilot and war hero, leaves in the middle of a banquet where President Truman is presenting him with the Congressional Medal of Honor to fly through a blizzard from New York to Bedford Falls because his big brother George is in a crisis.

Despite the three-years age difference, it is not rare for people being introduced to the sister and brother to inquire if they are twins. Beyond appearance, they have always shared a twin-like bond. But perhaps never were they closer than during this tribulation.

“He’s the best gift you and Mom ever gave me,” the daughter said on the phone the night he arrived.

Over the next seven days, the brother proved to be penicillin for the ailment. He tackled the crisis head-on, providing leadership and labor, wisdom and support, loving words and a shoulder to cry on, all on his own, all on little sleep.

Sometimes the son becomes the father; certainly the young man became a man, period. Or, as the girl noted: “I have always been the big sister, but this week he has become my big brother.”

Asked how he was holding up midway through his rescue mission, the son quoted former Navy Seal Eric Greitens, who wrote in his best-selling book “The Heart and the Fist”: “When a task is necessary, its difficulty is irrelevant.”

When his sister needed help, everything else was irrelevant.

“She’s the best gift you ever gave me,” the son said, repeating what his big sis had said of him only days earlier – words that are the best gift a parent could ever hear.

And so in many ways, like a favorite old Easter morning video, I cherish the crisis that has now passed. Indeed, to other parents I wish them their own gift-wrapped hardship if it will reinforce their kids’ sibling bonds.

— Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for the Star. You can contact him at WoodyWriter@gmail.com or through his website at www.WoodyWoodburn.com

 

 

 

Column: A Kind Word Lifts Spirits

A Kind Word Can Lift Low Spirits

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“We have not yet begun to use kind words in such abundance as they ought to be used.”

                                                                                     – Blaise Pascal, French philosopher

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Given a quarter-full glass, or three-quarters empty depending on one’s perspective, my mindset is usually, “That’s a lot to drink because that’s a big glass.”

The other day, however, I saw that glass as 75 percent empty – and dirty and cracked. Some cranky e-mails about a column had me feeling low. Then a note from another reader lifted my fallen spirits and brought to mind the poem “On Friendship” by my hero Coach John Wooden:

At times when I am feeling low, / I hear from a friend and then

My worries start to go away / And I am on the mend

No matter what the doctors say – / And their studies never end

The best cure of all, when spirits fall, / Is a kind word from a friend

My cure came from a friend I have never met. Jon Gold, a Los Angeles sportswriter who grew up in Thousand Oaks, wrote me succinctly but with kindness in abundance: “I became a writer because I got to read you write like this when I was 10.”

His words were penicillin for what ailed me. That I somehow inspired someone even a small fraction of the way Jim Murray made me want to become a writer is as nice a compliment as I have ever received.

Jon’s note did something more – it reminded me of this wisdom from Russian screenwriter Sonya Levien: “Good intentions are not enough; they’ve never put an onion in the soup yet.”

How many times have I failed to put an onion in the soup; thought about sending a kind note but not followed up in deed? Thankfully, I have not faltered completely in letting those who have changed my life know it. I wrote to my first newspaper boss last year; my sixth-grade teacher before that; Jim Murray and Coach Wooden before their deaths.

My two adult kids, on the other hand, are chef-like at putting onions in the soup. This very week my daughter wrote a two-page letter to one of her favorite university professors, thanking him for his past and present mentorship. She has similarly written notes of gratitude to numerous other teachers, colleagues, friends.

My son also regularly puts pen to paper to express thanks to professors, mentors, coaches and friends who have influenced his life’s journey. Just recently he mailed a card, albeit three years belatedly, to someone he met only once.

Unfortunately it was returned as undeliverable. However, he was able to locate the person on-line at her new place of employment and resent it. It began: “Dear Liz Williams, I don’t know if you remember me, but I want to thank you for changing my life. . . .”

He proceeded to explain how she had been instrumental in his taking his first humanitarian trip to Africa – Mali – a momentous event that opened his eyes and heart, opened doors, and inspired him to return to Africa – Ghana – as well as make a four-week goodwill visit to Sri Lanka.

My son concluded: “I apologize for getting caught up in other things and not telling you all this sooner – it is one of the lessons from Mali that I have had to re-learn looking back. This long-overdue thanks is to let you know that you have taught me the greatest lesson of all: that we can profoundly change the lives of anyone we come in contact with, and while we may not always know if we do, I wanted you to know that in this case you have made a world of difference.”

Not surprisingly, his thoughtful words were as welcomed as Jon Gold’s were to me. “Thank you for reaching out!” Liz wrote back. “Wow, I am truly overwhelmed by the kindness of your words. It made my day (maybe even my year) . . .”

Now if you will excuse me, I am going to put an onion in the soup and write a long-overdue note of gratitude to my favorite college professor, Mr. Ridland.

— Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for the Star. You can contact him at WoodyWriter@gmail.com or through his website at www.WoodyWoodburn.com