Screw the sandbox, my brother taught me about life.

I was not the best of older brothers when I was younger. In fact, if you asked my brother he could probably paint you a field of words that describe how bad I was. Back then I was to angry and stupid to care. In hind site, calling me an ass hole would be an understatement.

Now, don't get me wrong. I love my brother and I would like to think that we have a pretty good relationship now. In fact, I think I have a better relationship with my brother then most people have with their siblings.

I have a bad memory so I am not sure when I went from nice adorable son to a prick of an older brother but I think it all started when I was 5 and he was 2. We were in the basement of my grandmothers house. He was playing who knows what. I was reading a book to my mother on the couch, The Velveteen Rabbit I think. I was proud as hell I was reading a book to my mother.

Well, and I am saying this now as if I was the 5 year old back then saying it (in other words, if this was a movie we just faded away from the present and were showing a scene from the past), my brother tried to take MY mothers attention from ME by showing her something. Well this irked me. Hell, it pissed me off.

If you can't tell, I think even back then I knew my brother was, how to say, smarter then I. And I think my mother realized this, which is what made me mad (Mom, if you're reading this, you didn't do anything wrong with me, it is just the truth).

So I was sitting there reading and my brother does it again. He beckons for my mothers attention. Well that did it for me. I took that book, that hard back book, and hit him across the head with it. Yes, yes, you are probably shaking your head in disgust at me but keep in mind I DID admit I WAS an ass hole.

I hit him on the head and what do I do? I continue reading like nothing happened. What I didn't notice was that my brother was bleeding and he had to go to the hospital and get stitches. I can remember that I was so pissed because yet again my younger brother managed to take MY mothers attention away from ME. I was mad.

And that is what started an on going event of torture, beatings, name callings from me to him. I am not proud of what I did but I will tell you now, if I had a chance to travel back in time and change it, I would do exactly the same thing I did. You will see why in a bit.

Over the years I would keep breaking him down. Hitting him, if not physically, then verbally. I would even gang up on him with my older cousin. I felt a thrill. I actually believed that he got what he deserved.

He even had this thing he would say every time I used my strength to bully him. "Higher learning curve." He would do or say something to trick me so I would stand there like an idiot trying to figure out what he said. And when I finally figured it out, it was too late for me to bully him. And he would just say "higher learning curve". Oh how that phrase pissed the hell out of me.

Then something changed. He got to high school. I was a senior. And everything he had is everything I had wanted. Friends. He managed to make more friends in 5 minutes then I made in 3 years. It was a bitch.

But I learned something about my brother that day. No matter how much I beat him down, no matter how many times I kicked him when he was down, he always, and I do mean always, managed to stand up stronger and climb all over me like I was a stepping stone.

I learned a valuable lesson through him. In fact, this lesson changed my entire life for me. The way I lived my life. The way I perceived things. The way other people affected me. The way I affected other people. On a tangent, if my brother is reading this, he is probably already making a list of spelling and grammatical mistakes I have made so he can leave them in a comment along with a witty remark (oh the pressures on now boy!). Heh.

I learned that no matter how hard you fall or how many times you fall you can rise back up better then when you fell. I was stronger then him so it was easy for me to push him down. He would stand up and make a joke so good that it would knock me on my ass so hard.

He was writing intricate poems (one that was about how bad a brother I was, and a damn good poem if you ask me) that would make college graduates shudder when I was still figuring out how to spell elephant. He was telling jokes so good that my insides would split open, even though I was to angry to laugh out loud.

I didn't learn anything in the sandbox. I learned everything I ever needed to know about how to survive from him. I had heard the phrase "when life hands you lemons, make lemonade" but he taught me what it means. Better yet, he taught me, when life hands you lemons, make a joke comparing lemons to George Bush's face that would make people laugh and let them buy you a lemonade.

When people would push me down, I would stand back up, brush the dirt of my shoulder, and go on with my life. And before I knew it, those people were coming to me for help. Asking me for help on their homework or with their computer. Words were never exchanged but I could see the sorry in their eyes. And some people never learned, but those people don't matter. I am not one to wish bad on anyone but those are the same people who are unhappy with how their life turned out. I didn't care for them back then, and I don't care for them now.

I think, in the end, both him and I are better for what went on when we were younger. He is a smart ass kid with 3 majors and a minor and a wit worthy of TV. And he can have almost any job he wants (I don't care how good he is, he will never be a gold medalist winner for the woman's Olympic events). And I'm not doing that bad myself. I'm happy with my life and that's what matters. I wouldn't change anything of my past. Except maybe I wish I learned the lesson a lot sooner so I could be half as funny as he looks.

"Do you know why we fall sir? So that we might better learn to pick ourselves up."