Story #41: Which Sister Are You?

Here is a picture of me and my brother, Nathan, at our parents' house one Christmas. Can you guess how many years ago it was? Hint: it was not the same year that this post's story took place. Don't let my present-day youthful radiance throw you off!

Three or four years ago now I was in Iowa over winter break visiting my brother and his family. One evening we had dinner at the home of my sister-in-law's grandparents and I found myself seated between two of her cousins, a pair of brothers who are two of--wait for it--ten siblings. One of them I'd met before many times (see the "Oh! You must be Nathan's sister, I can tell because..." comment referenced in an earlier post) and the other of whom I'd attended mutual events with but never met face-to-face.

"So," the one I'd just truly met said, "Which one of Nathan's sisters are you?"

I blinked, politely. I was already a little thrown off in general as a vegetarian in Iowa at a Christmastime ham dinner, not to mention disoriented by the subzero temperatures that made my California blood freeze up every time I went outside. This, though, was really more Twilight Zone-ish than I could handle. I tried to think of what to say that might not be openly rude, but could only come up with repeating the question as a strategy to stall while I either thought of something else to say or hoped someone nearby might rescue me. "Um, which of Nathan's sisters?" I answered his question with a question.

"Yeah, you know," he said around a mouthful of scalloped potatoes chased with creamed corn, "He has that sister who's a teacher in California, and then the other sister who lives in Israel, and then the one sister who just learned how to swim a few years back, plus that sister who won the hog-calling contest at the state fair, and well there's also the sister who dated that one guy for years and years but, um, doesn't anymore, and well, you know--which one are you?"

By now Nathan had his hand over his face, horrified at how embarrassed I might feel by all of this, and Kelli was unabashedly laughing into her napkin. Ah, I see what's going on here...

Nonplussed, I put my forkful of macaroni salad down and look him right in the eye. The kid has nine brothers and sisters, and has lived in Burlington, Iowa, his whole life. Based on his own prior knowledge, no wonder he is confused. "I'm all of them," I answer. "Nathan only has one sister."

"OH," he gulps while his brother on my other side rolls his eyes and my own brother gets up from the table for more food. "Really?! I just, you know, somehow thought that you must have a bunch of girls in your family, well, because, each of those things on its own seemed kinda unusual to me, so I just never imagined, well, anyway...does anybody else want some more ham?"

Later on the way back to their house Kelli apologized to me. "You know he wasn't trying to make fun of you, right? It's just that in his family, everyone's life is always the same, beginning to end. You have to know that Nathan adores you, and talks about you all the time. Over the years he's told all different stories about the places you've been and everything you've done, and he just never thought to explain that the sister in every story was always the same person. I hope you weren't too offended by my family."

Not offended, just entertained. I think the conversation was probably way more awkward for the cousin than it was for me. My life is just my life, you know? I guess to the casual observer I can see how it would appear to have many lifetimes inside it. I'm just lucky, I guess, or that's how it feels to me anyway.

Love you, funk soul brotha...xoxoxyouronetruesister