The Other One!

I was born into a typical World War II Italian-American family.  I had a sister, who was six years older than me.  And I have a brother, who is six years younger than me.  So, yes, that makes me THE MIDDLE CHILD.  Horror of horrors!  I'm sure you have heard stories of "the middle child".  It usually goes something like this: "Growing up as a middle child can make the youngster feel like they go unnoticed by his parents. The oldest children are held in high esteem due to their accomplishments while the youngest are coddled and babied."  

Guess what!  All of that is TRUE - with one small exception in my case.  Since there was six years between all of us, my mother had one baby at home at the same time as the older child started school, so we were sort of like three only children.  So, strangely as it may sound, I have some characteristics of the middle child, and I also have some characteristics of an only child. 

But, I'm not here to discuss birth order for the sake of discussing birth order.  It only serves as the canvas to the rest of the story.  My parents owned a shoe repair shop, and all of us took our turn working at the shop after school and on Saturdays.  It was a seamless operation where my sister and I were concerned.  Just about the time she had graduated from high school, I was old enough to look about the same size and age as she was.  I had been working at the shop all of my life, but now, there was only one daughter behind the counter.  I'm not sure if some people really thought my parents only had one daughter that occasionally looked slightly older/younger, or if they thought we were twins, or what exactly.  I did tell someone one time, after they kept telling us how much we looked alike, that, yes, in fact we were twins.  They then asked how far apart we were born, and with a completely straight face I said, "Six years."

My parents, naturally, wanted all of us to be successful, but my mother, in particular, had certain labels or professions pre-set in her mind that would guarantee that a person could be classified as successful.  Being a priest (for a boy) naturally was number one on the list.  Being a doctor was a close second, and being a lawyer was right up there in the top five.  I have no doubt that my parents loved me because my mother told us all the time that "I love all my children equally."  Well, we all know what she meant, but the old saying, "actions speak louder than words" was her undoing.  And besides, anyone who has ever had children, or even more than one pet for that matter, knows that you love your children and/or pets differently because they are different entities.  No two people are alike and should be treated as individuals, not just another one in the assembly line.

So, when I say that I did have some traits of a middle child, I mean I really do feel that I was treated differently from my sister (the first born) and my brother (the baby).  And, I have evidence to back it up, and these are all incidents after I was grown, married, and had children.  I'm letting all the stuff that happened when I was a child go by the wayside.

On more than one occasion, I would make a statement, and my mother would completely discount it and say something like, "Now, Ann, how do you know that!"  I would be making bread or homemade pasta and I would mention how the dough for pasta was quite a bit more dense than dough for bread, and I would hear the, 'Now, Ann, how do you know that!"  Mind you, I made both pretty regularly. 

The most obvious time of the "Now, Ann, how do you know that" came right after Mount St. Helens had erupted.  I had gone on a school field trip with my kids to a volcano exhibit which covered everything from Pompeii to Mount St. Helens.  We were visiting my parents, and I related some facts that we had learned on the field trip, and here it came, "Now, Ann, how do you know that!".  I didn't even get a chance to say anything.  My uncle was sitting there in the room listening and he spoke up.  He said, "Frances (which was my mother's name), why do you always question everything Ann says.  If that had been her sister saying it, you would not question it.  But, you always do it with Ann." It was like a lightening bolt had just crashed through the ceiling of my parent's house and landed in the middle of the living room.  It was the first time in my life that I realized that maybe I wasn't imagining it and that other people had noticed it.  Validation for the first time is a very sweet thing.

Other times, if all three of us were visiting, my mother would introduce us to friends of hers.  She had a very interesting way of introducing us.  She would point to my sister and say, "This is my daughter, the lawyer."  Then she would point to my brother and say, "This is my son, the musician."  And, then she would point to me and say, "Oh, and this is my ...............pretty daughter."

Now, I had gotten used to this behavior and really didn't pay attention to it too much, and I'm sure no one else really did either (other than my wonderful uncle), but the icing on the cake came at my father's funeral.  My brother and I were standing around greeting guests at the visitation at the funeral home.  My father was a very well known businessman in our home town, so it was a rather large crowd and my mother and sister were elsewhere in the crowd talking to people.  As my brother and I were standing there, a lady came up and said the now famous words, "Are you Nelwyn (my sister) or THE OTHER ONE."  Yes, she actually said "the other one".  I calmly said, "I'm the other one."  My brother's mouth dropped open and he is still in a state of shock 15 years later.  When the woman walked off, he said, "Did you hear what she said??? She asked you if you were the other one."  I just laughed and said, "Well, of course I heard what she said.  I've been hearing stuff like that for 49 years.  You're only shocked because it's the first time you have actually heard someone say out loud what I have been telling you all of my life."

Both my parents have since passed away and my sister passed away 3 years ago, so you would think that people always putting me in second place would be over.  Not so much.  I attended my aunt's funeral a couple of months ago.  There were some people sitting in front of me in the church and they kept turning around to look at me.  Finally, one lady just couldn't take it any more and asked how I was related to the deceased.  When I told her who I was and that the deceased was married to my mother's brother (the wonderful uncle who took up for me), she immediately asked about my sister.  When I told her that my sister had passed away, that's all they could talk about for the remainder of the entire funeral service.  And, they kept turning around asking me more questions and being shocked that they didn't know.  I turned to my husband and said, "Even in death, I can't escape my sister's shadow."  So, there you go, my personal story that can vouch for the fact that middle children ARE treated differently.

Signed,

The Other One