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My once-older brother Martin should have turned 75 today. He won’t, though, because he died some time in the summer of 2004.
I entered adulthood in the unisex, androgynous 1970s so it never struck me as particularly unusual that I should become involved with someone grappling with gender issues. What did floor me was that Martin believed it might in some way have been his “fault”. Apparently he figured I had looked up to him as a big brother but he had somehow been an inadequate role model because he was “not macho”.
It’s true that he was not a “Big Bobby Clobber” type sports fanatic. He was fond of music and certainly had a sensitive side to him. But he also had quite a temper, something I think would have been less well tolerated, had he been a woman. He did not suffer fools gladly and could be bitingly sarcastic at times. He was a great one for making mountains out of molehills and perhaps the stress of forever taking umbrage eventually finished him off! If only he could have learned that sometimes it just doesn’t make sense to sweat the small stuff.
With those he did not feel threatened by, like animals and younger children, he could be kind and patient. When I was quite young, he used to let me look through his microscope. He also taught me how to play chess and particularly in the summer holidays, he would play endless games of Monopoly and ping-pong with me. His birthday sometimes overlapped with Fathers’ Day, as it does this year, so it’s interesting to speculate how he might have been as a dad.
That said, he could be a terrible tease, although once in a while it backfired. I remember him showing me a dollar bill he had on which the Queen’s hair had (or appeared to have) a devil in it. I couldn’t see it and was convinced he was just trying to put one over on me. It was only some time later that I learned that many others had also noticed the unfortunate arrangement of Her Majesty’s coiffure and a modification had been made to correct the issue:
http://canadacurrency.com/bank-of-canada/bank-of-canada-currency-from-1954/value-of-1954-devils-face-1-bill-from-the-bank-of-canada-2/
I don’t know to what extent Martin was a role model for me in my early days but I do know that by his untimely demise, he influenced me more than he’ll ever know. Above all, he taught me that life is short.
I was fifty when he died, and working in a federal public service job that was becoming increasingly more stressful as we underwent seemingly endless and pointless reorganizations. Less than two years later, my mother was to die too, and I developed rheumatoid arthritis which was further aggravated by job stress. With the option of retiring at 55 with over 33 years of pensionable service, I figured that if I might pop my clogs at 58 like Martin, I sure as hell wanted to first fit in a few good years of leisure and of crossing items off my bucket list.
Martin had planned on leaving his main job at 62 and becoming a part-time organist, but he didn’t last that long. Who knows - perhaps if he had pursued a career in music long ago, he’d still be around today.
Our parents were scarred by the Depression and the war years and I don’t think they ever really believed music was a “real” job that could provide a real livelihood for most people. But I know quite a few people (a number of them within the family) who have managed it, generally through some combination of teaching, performing and recording. They’re not fabulously wealthy but neither are they living a hand-to-mouth existence.
In my role as a parent and a grandparent, I would certainly encourage younger people (or, for that matter, older ones) to pursue their passions in life. The journey is every bit as important as the destination!
I entered adulthood in the unisex, androgynous 1970s so it never struck me as particularly unusual that I should become involved with someone grappling with gender issues. What did floor me was that Martin believed it might in some way have been his “fault”. Apparently he figured I had looked up to him as a big brother but he had somehow been an inadequate role model because he was “not macho”.
It’s true that he was not a “Big Bobby Clobber” type sports fanatic. He was fond of music and certainly had a sensitive side to him. But he also had quite a temper, something I think would have been less well tolerated, had he been a woman. He did not suffer fools gladly and could be bitingly sarcastic at times. He was a great one for making mountains out of molehills and perhaps the stress of forever taking umbrage eventually finished him off! If only he could have learned that sometimes it just doesn’t make sense to sweat the small stuff.
With those he did not feel threatened by, like animals and younger children, he could be kind and patient. When I was quite young, he used to let me look through his microscope. He also taught me how to play chess and particularly in the summer holidays, he would play endless games of Monopoly and ping-pong with me. His birthday sometimes overlapped with Fathers’ Day, as it does this year, so it’s interesting to speculate how he might have been as a dad.
That said, he could be a terrible tease, although once in a while it backfired. I remember him showing me a dollar bill he had on which the Queen’s hair had (or appeared to have) a devil in it. I couldn’t see it and was convinced he was just trying to put one over on me. It was only some time later that I learned that many others had also noticed the unfortunate arrangement of Her Majesty’s coiffure and a modification had been made to correct the issue:
http://canadacurrency.com/bank-of-canada/bank-of-canada-currency-from-1954/value-of-1954-devils-face-1-bill-from-the-bank-of-canada-2/
I don’t know to what extent Martin was a role model for me in my early days but I do know that by his untimely demise, he influenced me more than he’ll ever know. Above all, he taught me that life is short.
I was fifty when he died, and working in a federal public service job that was becoming increasingly more stressful as we underwent seemingly endless and pointless reorganizations. Less than two years later, my mother was to die too, and I developed rheumatoid arthritis which was further aggravated by job stress. With the option of retiring at 55 with over 33 years of pensionable service, I figured that if I might pop my clogs at 58 like Martin, I sure as hell wanted to first fit in a few good years of leisure and of crossing items off my bucket list.
Martin had planned on leaving his main job at 62 and becoming a part-time organist, but he didn’t last that long. Who knows - perhaps if he had pursued a career in music long ago, he’d still be around today.
Our parents were scarred by the Depression and the war years and I don’t think they ever really believed music was a “real” job that could provide a real livelihood for most people. But I know quite a few people (a number of them within the family) who have managed it, generally through some combination of teaching, performing and recording. They’re not fabulously wealthy but neither are they living a hand-to-mouth existence.
In my role as a parent and a grandparent, I would certainly encourage younger people (or, for that matter, older ones) to pursue their passions in life. The journey is every bit as important as the destination!
