Lessons about Caring, Taught by My Sisters

I spend lots of Blog air-time talking about my three daughters, and only occasionally mention that I also have three older sisters. Today, it's all about the sisters without a word about my (wonderful, smart, beautiful, amazing, hard-working, kind-hearted, funny and talented) daughters.

Why? The specific trigger is an important event for the youngest of my three sisters - her Masters graduation ceremony is streaming "Live from New York!" this afternoon, and I am very, very proud of her. And of course, they're my sisters and they helped shape who I am. So why not give them one Blog post of their own?

My sisters...

I won't say that everything I know about caring for people I learned from my three sisters, but I will say that they taught me lots on that subject - by word and by deed.

While I could bore you to tears with details about their individual qualities, many lessons they taught me (on all subjects but math), and all sorts of stories from childhood, I will instead give you a glimpse into each one of them using three vignettes about caring, each featuring one sister. (As usual, names have been withheld to protect the innocent.)

Sister #1: The Eldest

My eldest sister wrote the book on caring. Anyone who knows her, knows that. If absolutely anyone in her sphere (her own children, her nieces or nephews, her parents, her siblings, her friends, her students - I'm sure - or even her casual acquaintances) throws off a scent of being in pain or in trouble, sad, frustrated, upset or scared... my eldest sister is the first to the rescue. Mention that "today I'm feeling blue" on Facebook, she will be your first respondent.

She taught me that caring is a full-time responsibility and an unlimited resource...

I remember at some point in my childhood something was bothering me and keeping me awake at night. I couldn't tell you if I was sad or worried or angry and I certainly couldn't tell you what it was that was troubling me, but what I do remember clearly was getting out of bed, trotting downstairs, and finding my eldest sister busy with something else, but immediately available to me. She asked me what was wrong and all I remember is spending a healthy chunk of time sitting with her on our piano bench, talking it through, and feeling better. It's telling that I remember the caring but no other details about what was going on.

When someone cries out, no matter what else you're doing, caring is your immediate and top priority.

Sister #2: The Middle

(Warning, language may offend)

My middle sister is the one who was always wildly independent and larger-than-life, travelling and living in exotic places, finding adventure in the every day, eating fancy food and telling us all about it ('fancy', at the time, meant rapini and mortadella), and always ready to challenge me on what I was learning about the world. It elevated me whenever she was around asking questions about my life and offering (at-the-time) frightening advice about things to try, ways to behave, girls, and everything else that no one would talk to me about. 

She taught me that caring isn't always about coddling, it's also about challenging and questioning and building a little backbone...

I remember she had a bird. She loved that bird with the unbridled passion that she brought to everything in her life. She cared for it deeply, and that included teaching it to get out of it's cage and explore. One day, it found a little respite under the couch. My middle sister needed it to get out from under the couch, so in her sweetest most dulcet tones, she said: "Please come out from under the couch little bird...", lying flat on the floor and reaching out with a helping-hand. Soon, her tone shifted a bit, still in a soft voice still lying on her side with hand extended: "Come on out of there stupid fucking bird... it's time to go back in your cage!" Then it was, "GET THE FUCK OUT FROM UNDER THE COUCH RIGHT FUCKING NOW YOU ASSHOLE BEFORE I...!%$#@!&$%#@". 

If you care for someone, encourage them to explore and give them room to learn for themselves, challenge them, push them out of their comfort zone, then stand-by, ready to guide them back home, when they need a little help.

(Mini-epilogue: The bird later died when we moved into a new house and my Mom left soapy water in the sink which the bird mistook for a landing pad. Might not have been the same bird, but you can read about that adventure in my 'Ode to Zero').

Sister #3: The Youngest

My youngest sister was closest to me in age, and my best and dearest friend throughout my childhood. We played together all the time, we ate the same food (which was basically, nothing), we watched the same television, we listened to the same music, we sold stuff to each other, we had the same friends, we more-or-less went to the same schools, and we had many of the same interests - as long as they were her interests (Barbie, for example). She demonstrated her caring for me by teaching me to do things (for her) by myself. Doing her math homework, asking Mom and Dad for things, buying candy for her at the store, and so on. 

She taught me that caring for someone means encouraging them do things for themselves so they can learn, even if it means depriving yourself of that learning opportunity...

I remember on bath-night, my youngest sister always gave me the opportunity to fill her bathtub so that I could get better and better at it when I had to fill my own. She'd offer encouraging words like "You know exactly how much Mr. Bubble to put in", "You always make it the best temperature", and "Stop complaining, or I'll tell Mom that you sold me your old deck of cards and it was missing a 3." Ask any of my daughters today who - as a child - they'd have preferred to fill the tub for them. They have their Aunt, my youngest sister, to thank for that.

caring...

...is a full-time responsibility and an unlimited resource... 

...isn't always about coddling, it's also about challenging and questioning and building a little backbone... 

...means encouraging people to do things for themselves so they can learn, even if it means depriving yourself of that learning opportunity.

I don't tell my sisters that I love them often enough, nor do I let them know how much I've gained as a person because they are my sisters, ... but I do and I have.

And to my youngest sister on her big day, I am so proud of you for taking time out of your life and bravely going back to school at your advanced age to get your Masters. We are all thinking of you and very, very excited for you.

...David