New Jersey

No, not like New Jersey; rather new jersey...  From my sister, Brenda.  As a recreational cyclist with an employee discount at the bike shop, you may have guessed that I have a fair number of jerseys, and you would be correct.  You might also guess that, since it was my birthday, my middle sibling thought it would be a great idea to buy me a new jersey, and that would also be correct.

What you might not know, however, is the story behind the jersey (is that enough italics for a while? I thought so...).

As anyone can plainly see from this photo, the jersey in question is emblazoned with a silhouette of the US capitol building and "Washington DC" in lovely bold block lettering across the top, all done in patriotic red, white, and blue.  Looks GREAT.  I love it.

You might also notice that my sister, the giver of this gift and pictured with me, is quite obviously significantly older than I am (sorry for more italics...).  And therein lies the story.

Fifty years ago or so, as the summer of 1964 approached, my parents, "Doc" and Helen Walker, were planning to take their happy young family of six on a vacation road trip to Washington, DC to see our nation's capitol and all of the memorials and sites and excitement that it entails.  (Excitement, indeed...  A road trip ANYWHERE with Doc was an adventure in patience, since he didn't believe in starting said trips any time after 4 a.m. and never stopped to eat, which meant we didn't have to stop to pee, either.  Oh, the memories of driving my eldest sister to college in Minnesota...)  So the plan was for Mom, Dad, and the four Walker children (Pam, Kevin, Brenda, and Marcia) to go and see democracy in action that fateful summer fifty years gone.

Around about probably February or March, my parents gathered their happy clan for a family meeting.  These meetings were very infrequent, since Doc's rule was usually law, so any time there was a family meeting it was serious stuff.  Let me set the scene for you:

The four children gathered on the floor, looking up at their parents, no doubt expecting to hear about some of the wonderful excursions and sightseeing they would be doing in a few short months.  Mom and Dad, beaming proudly at their adoring offspring, smiling beatifically down from their perches on the couch.  Mom got the ball rolling.

"Well, kids, we have a question for you.  Would you rather fo to Washington this summer, or have a new baby brother or sister?"

"OOoooh, a new baby."  "Yes, awesome, a new baby would be great," and other such excited babble greeted them from their children.

All but one.

"Ummm, no, I want to go to Washington."  Brenda, ever one to have a plan, make a plan, and STICK TO IT, was firmly entrenched with the idea of a family trip to DC.  She was eight years old and was totally looking forward to it.  (And hey, she already had three siblings, so it's not like anyone was lonely.)

I'm still not sure exactly how the folks broke the news that it really wasn't a choice or a vote, and that indeed the great Washington Trip of the Summer of 1964 was indeed going to be canceled, but there it was.  Brenda did NOT get to go to see democracy in action, the Lincoln Memorial, or any other such national treasures that were in store for her.  Because of me :)

The story continues, however, because not only did she not get to go to DC, I also made her the middle child.  I am frequently reminded of both of these things.  "I could have gone to Washington," she sighed, exasperated, when I sent her a birthday card every day for a week the year she turned 30.  (I assure you that many were very creative and humorous.)  At some point she figured out the middle child thing, and all of her myriad psychological issues have since been placed on my shoulders as well.

Want to know the funniest thing, though?  I've actually been to DC three times.  Yep.  Took the ZHS Marching Band there for the National Independence Day Parade and the National Memorial Day Parade.  The latter, in 2009, saw me at my best: I purchased, well, let's say "several" DC postcards and passed them out to the band kids.  I instructed them to write Brenda a nice note so that she would be able to somehow take part in the joy and excitement that we were all a part of.  The over 100 post cards all arrived at about the same time at the Holland mailbox, and brother-in-law Mark had a bit of a time getting them all in his hands to carry up to the house.  

So now Brenda has plenty of pictures and notes about what it's like in the capitol of the free world, and I'm sure she enjoyed reading every last one of those cards.  After all, her little brother is very thoughtful!!

So the choice between a trip or a sibling was settled, I came along and made the family so much more exciting and fun, and Brenda will probably some day get to DC.  I hope.  Once in a while I do feel a little bad about it...

Love you, big sister!!!  XOXOXO