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When I'm 66
Jun. 20th, 2012 08:08 pmMy once-older brother was born 66 years ago today. Sadly, he died nearly eight years ago, making him (in a way) forever 58.
He once remarked that he thought maybe he had failed to set an appropriate big-brotherly example for me because he was "not macho", as he put it. And though he did have a couple of personality traits that are sometimes associated with testosterone and masculinity - he could be quick-tempered, for example, and a bit egotistical - I have to agree that on balance, he was not macho. But so what?
He seemed to enjoy the mentoring role - first at home with me, then I guess in the course of his academic career and workplace, too. When I was quite young, he used to let me look through his microscope. He taught me how to play chess, though I never got particularly good at it. During the summer holidays, before he had summer jobs, he used to play endless games of Monopoly and ping-pong with me. And I do credit him, at least in part, for my interest in music. He had planned after retirement (from a job situation that I gather was becoming rather toxic) to take up a second career as an organist. I've no doubt he would have been good at it and would have found it very satisfying as well. Perhaps he should have gone into some sort of musical career right from the beginning.
Ironically, and as gruesome as this may seem, sometimes a negative example can be far more powerful than a positive one. My brother tended to make mountains out of molehills. I've learned over the years not to sweat the small stuff and to think carefully about which battles are worth fighting. I opted to retire at the age of 55. I would have had a slightly higher pension if I'd waited to get the maximum 35 years of service rather than 33; but I had enough to live in reasonable comfort. We seemed to be in a perpetual state of reorganization at work, my job had disappeared, and I'm sure the stress at work had a lot to do with my developing rheumatoid arthritis at age 52 - I am still on some medication, but have very few symptoms now that I'm retired, relatively stress-free, and can basically spend my time the way I want to. So to a great extent, I have my brother to thank for making me realize that no job is worth seriously jeopardizing my physical and mental health for!
I'll be thinking about him quite a bit over the next month or so as I attend concerts at Music & Beyond and Chamberfest.
He once remarked that he thought maybe he had failed to set an appropriate big-brotherly example for me because he was "not macho", as he put it. And though he did have a couple of personality traits that are sometimes associated with testosterone and masculinity - he could be quick-tempered, for example, and a bit egotistical - I have to agree that on balance, he was not macho. But so what?
He seemed to enjoy the mentoring role - first at home with me, then I guess in the course of his academic career and workplace, too. When I was quite young, he used to let me look through his microscope. He taught me how to play chess, though I never got particularly good at it. During the summer holidays, before he had summer jobs, he used to play endless games of Monopoly and ping-pong with me. And I do credit him, at least in part, for my interest in music. He had planned after retirement (from a job situation that I gather was becoming rather toxic) to take up a second career as an organist. I've no doubt he would have been good at it and would have found it very satisfying as well. Perhaps he should have gone into some sort of musical career right from the beginning.
Ironically, and as gruesome as this may seem, sometimes a negative example can be far more powerful than a positive one. My brother tended to make mountains out of molehills. I've learned over the years not to sweat the small stuff and to think carefully about which battles are worth fighting. I opted to retire at the age of 55. I would have had a slightly higher pension if I'd waited to get the maximum 35 years of service rather than 33; but I had enough to live in reasonable comfort. We seemed to be in a perpetual state of reorganization at work, my job had disappeared, and I'm sure the stress at work had a lot to do with my developing rheumatoid arthritis at age 52 - I am still on some medication, but have very few symptoms now that I'm retired, relatively stress-free, and can basically spend my time the way I want to. So to a great extent, I have my brother to thank for making me realize that no job is worth seriously jeopardizing my physical and mental health for!
I'll be thinking about him quite a bit over the next month or so as I attend concerts at Music & Beyond and Chamberfest.
