Posted by Excalibur_1949 on Mon 19 Nov 07, 9:45 AM to Excalibur_1949's blog.
This time last year I wrote how I had failed to light a candle on the first anniversary of My elder brothers death, even though I light candles for My mother and wife on theirs.
I dont know what has changed this year, but yesterday I did light one, and it still burns as I write this.
Its not as if My brother and I were close, we were not. In fact we had very little in common. This, I think, is due to our chldhoods and the different way we were treated by My father.
MY brother was born 16 months before Me, and being first born, was the answer to My fathers dreams. a son to carry the family name onwards, and was therefore doted upon by My father.
When they decided that perhaps it would be a good idea to have a daughter, they got Me, and that was not what My father wanted, and he treated Me different to My brother.
Then in 1951 along came another brother, but during this birth there were comnplications, meaning My mother would never have another child, making this one the baby of the family, and as such, My father doted on him as well.
It may sound strange to say this, but even then I felt something wasnt right. My mother loved all of us equally, but not My father. It became a sort of battle for attentions, a battle I was reluctant to lose.
But, back to My elder brother.
In 1958 the local education authority had the ability to send children from poorer families to Blackpool for a week's holiday. My elder brother and I were chosen, and off we went to a large house in Squires Gate for the week.
Needless to say, it wasnt a happy week for either of us. He made friends with a couple of the other kids his own age, and tried to demonstrate how "good" he was by constantly picking on Me. after a few days it was time to fight back, afterall, you can only take so much before you have to defend yourself.
Onr time he started on Me again, and this time I flipped, and before anyone could stop Me, My temper flew and I was kneeling over him beating his head against the floor. Needless to say the adults looking after us soon dragged Me off and put a stop to it. I ended up locked in a room until My temper calmed.
Then came our final night there, and what should have been a good night almost turned into a fatality.
In those days skiffle music was all the rage, stemmed on By people like Lonnie Donegan, and we were encouraged to make musical instruments out of thngs we could find around. I had made a bass guitar out of an old tea chest, a broom handle and a piece of string. it may not have been the best instrument in the world, but it did work after a fashion.
then My brother came past, and showing off in front of his friends he kicked a hole on the tea chest and broke the string. again, My temper flew, but this time I was on the losing side, as he was kneeling on My chest with his hands around My throat, and had the adults not dragged him off, I would probably not be here to write this.
This was going to be the last time he ever beat Me at anything.
Obviously I wanted revenge, and he wanted to finish the job he had started during the holiday week. ovr the next couple of years there were several accidents, like he would leave the gas on "accidentally" after boiling a kettle. My mother would reprimand him, but My father was less than strict with him.
The first time I could get My own back was Christmas 1959. My father had bought My elder brother a Bycicle. not a second hand one, but a brand spanking new one. For the next few days everywhere My brother went, it was on the bike, and he more than once rode straight at me on the pavements outside our house.
Then came the opportunity, the bike was parked outside the house, and he was not around anywhere. I jumped on the bike, rode it to the local croft, and left it there.
I dont know who ended up with it, but the next time I passed the croft, it had gone. I was questioned by My father, but he couldnt get Me to admit having anything to do with it, and he bought another, second hand, bike for My brother. But this bike wasnt the same to him, and he rarely used it. In its own way, that was a triumph for Me.
when had I started school I didnt get new clothes, as the ones My brother had been wearing were only 16 months old, and were still useable, and why spend money on new clothes when those were still wearable.
Then it was time for My younger brother to start school. isnt it strange how the clothes I had been given, were now too old for him to have, and so he ended up with new school clothes, and in fact, new clothes everytime some were needed.
At school I was forever in battles with My elder brother, and invariably the teachers would drag us apart, if only to stop us doing serious damage to each other. Fortunately for the school, My brother started senior school, and that put a stop to it.
then in 1960 My parents uprooted and moved us almost 200 miles away, which was a shame, as I had just passed My eleven plus exam, and was elegible for Grammar School. however, we moved during the summer, and by that time all the Grammar School places had already been allocated, and I was put into a secondary modern school. My brother was still a year in front of Me, and on My first day at his school in 1961 all hell was let loose. Obviously, having been at the school for a year, he had made friends, and being the person he was, he was showing off in the playground, even before the school day had started.
It took three teachers to drag Me off him, and I ended up being caned for fighting. He got away with it, as he had not had any trouble in his first year, and so obviously the disruptive influence was Me.
I cannot count how many fights we had over the next couple of years, but needless to say, according to the authorities..I was responsible, as he was in no other sort of trouble.
Years moved on, and My father was still favouring the other two over Me. (In later years he admitted he had done this deliberatley, in order to make Me a fighter, a survivor)
I had chosen to beome a chef, and My elder brother laughed at this, and began name calling. In those days My temper would flare at the slightest provovation from him, and on this occasion I broke his arm. My mother scalded me, but My father decided to teach me a lesson, and marched Me off to the police station and had them lock Me in a cell for a couple of hours. (In those days this sort of thing happened frequently, as the crime rate was a lot lower and the police a different breed to the coppers of modern day)
I dont think this had the effect on Me that My father wanted, as the first thing I did when I got home, was break a record My elder brother had saved up weeks to buy, and then threw the bits in the rubbish bin. I am sure he knew I was responsible, but he never said anything about it.
When the time came for him to leave home, peace came to the house, for a while. Until one day he discovered that the girl he was seeing, was also seeing Me. Brotherly love? no such thing. To be honest, how either of us survived to adulthood is something I could never explain. By the time he discovered I was seeing his girlfriend, I had also taken up boxing, in order to control My temper.
Needless to say, now instead of hitting My brother in sheer temper, the shots were deliberate and more painful. I had taken to boxing quite well..and was winning bouts. This just made it easier to black My brothers eyes.
My father would always punish Me. He wore a leather belt which came in very handy as a strap to pnish Me. needless to say, this did not enamour Me any more to either My brothers or My father.
when I turned 18 I was offered a place in a boxing club, with a view to turning professional. but the doctor vetoed this, saying My eyesight wasnt good enough, and if I caught a blow on the side of the head, it could blind Me.
My brother made the mistake of taking the piss, and paid the penalty, but by this time My father had left home, and there was no-one to protect My brother.
The strange thing at this time was that we were both "Rockers" in the days when you were either a Mod or a Rocker. We did get into fights with the Mods in the town, but if anyone hit My elder brother, I was first there to defend him. In fact. I cant count how many times I did just that. It was okay for Me to beat the crap out of him, but no-one else was aloud to do so.
I guess I sort of started to settle down, and was doing well in My job, and the fueding between us slowed..and then stopped. In 1972 I once again got to a girl before he did. I was doing a disco at that time, and was actually doing a disco for My younger brothers engagement party. There was a girl there someone had brought along to meet My elder brother, but circumstances had favoured Me, and I got to her first. My partner in the disco was playing the records, and I was upstairs playing My own grooves with My brothers intended girlfriend.
It was only a few days later when they did actually meet up that My brother found out what had happened, and came looking for Me. I wasnt hard to find, and in fact, was waiting for him
this was the second time I boke one of his bones. by then My father had also returned to the hoise, and said he was going to give Me the hiding of My life.
I dont rewmember how it happened, but instead of My father administering the hiding, I found My self with My father pinned against the wall and My clenched fist inches away from his face. This was the last time My father ever tried this, and shortly after. he left home again, for the last time.
However, the side effect of this was that My brother was no longer speaking to Me, and moved out of town for some time, and we each went on with our own lives.
In 1991 I was now living in Manchester with My future wife, when there was a knock on the door. I was more than a little surprised to see My brother there. Apparently he had got the address off My mother.
He explained that some guys were after him, and he needed some place to hide for a while. He also said he would understand if I told him to go to hell.
But lots of water had passed under the bridge by this time, and I allowed him to stay, even let him bring his girlfriend up, help them get onto the council housing list, and help them move into a flat they were given when they found out his girtlfriend was pregnant.
Now we were constant visitors to each others homes, and when their second child was born, they had a joint christening for both girls. Even though I never ever go to church, I was there that day, wielding the camcorder to record the day for posterity.
I often worked away from home at Holiday camps, and had in fact met My wife there, though I have to admit that during this period we were not yet married, and in fact didnt marry until 1996, the same year that My brother married his girlfriend.
In 1994 I managed to get My brother a job at the camp I was working at, and we spent a few months not killoing each other. in fact. I also got My younger brother a job at the same camp, and one night we got the camp photographer to take a picture of the three of us. the first time we had ever all worked togeter. This Photograph was placed in My mother's coffin when she was cremated in 1999.
My brother and his wife moved to Derby, and we sort of lost contact, in fact, the only time we saw each other again was for My Mothers funeral service, and I have not seen him since.
Then last year I got a call from My sister in law telling Me that My brother had died six months before. Heart failure.
Apparently, she had tried to find Me, but it was only because I had registered with friends reunited that she had found My email address,,and then I sent her My phone number.
But, this time last year, I didnt light the candle I was ging to light for him. Maybe to do so would have meant accepting his death, and My own mortality, afer all, he was only 16 months older than Me.
But, now, there stands a candle burning away behindMe, lit on the anniversary of his death.
Could it be that I have, at last, forgiven him his trespasses? Have I come to terms with his death? I dont know, but I do know that next year, there will be another candle lit in his memory.
Edited Mon 19 Nov 07, 10:02 AM by Excalibur_1949
| 19 Nov 07, 10:07 AM xCallyx UK, 5 yrs   |
What a very moving story. i can see some of my family life in yours Sir, though as the baby of the family and therefore the pampered one it was rather, my two elder sisters who exhibited the tensions that you speak of that you had with your brother. Acceptance and forgiveness are marvelous things and i pray that they continue to serve you in this way. be well Sir 
The bottom half of GC INC |
