Member-only story
For Years, I Wished My Sister Would Go Away
Then, the story changed
In kindergarten, my high school “buddy,” Carolyn, asked me questions during her first classroom visit.
“What’s your favorite treat?”
“Cupcakes and chocolate milk,” I said.
“What’s your favorite sport?”
“Baseball.”
Then, she asked, “What do you want more than anything else in the world?”
I did not hesitate. “A new sister.”
My wish became the basis of an illustrated book that Carolyn created for me called Bradley’s New Companion.
The main character is me, an only child who yearns for a sibling to play with. Colorful illustrations show the boy imagining a future with a younger sister — climbing trees, playing house, and fishing at a lake. The boy imagines his sister becoming his best friend.
At the story’s end, the boy excitedly greets his new baby sister, who is being held in his mother’s arms.
It’s a sweet story.
But in real life, I wasn’t an only child. I already had a sister, Jennifer, four years older than me.
I was just hoping for a replacement.
Jennifer and I fought with such intensity that friends and relatives would ask whether we needed an intervention. She teased me relentlessly about my messy hair, my big ears, and my missing front teeth. Never mind that those teeth were knocked out after Big Sis pushed me down a flight of cement stairs.
In retaliation for her taunts, I called Jennifer awful names in front of her friends. I barged into her room without knocking. I once threw a butter knife in her direction that came within a foot of hitting her. We screamed, slammed doors, and broke one another’s things.
Our father would yell for us both to “Quit it!” Our mother begged for “peace and quiet,” often through tears.
Our parents disagreed about what kind of discipline our behavior warranted. Mom thought we needed a regime of clear rules and consequences. Dad knew only how to dispense spontaneous rage, sometimes involving a brown leather belt to the backside. They also disagreed about what to spend money…
