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Dave Shabaz
So yesterday was National Brothers Day, and since my two older sisters, Sharon and Linda, aren’t here to write something about me, I felt it would be fine with them if I spoke for them. I’m sure as their one and only brother and being the baby of the family, I’d know exactly what they would say about me. For the record, Sharon is seven years older than me and Linda is fourteen years older than me, and for those who don’t do math, we are all seven years apart.
Apparently, my late mother felt romantic once every seven years. Sorry Dad!
OK, so this is me speaking for them.
Our little brother Dave, where oh where do we begin. When we were blessed with his existence in August of 1962, it just brightened both of our lives and the lives of those around us. We talked about it and we honestly have zero memories of anything in life happening before his birth. He was the sunshine on a cloudy day. Even when he was an infant and cried all the time, we couldn’t help but smile and enjoy his screaming. It was like music to our ears.
And as he became a toddler, of course he was the most beautiful child anyone had ever seen. If we had social media back then, he no doubt would have been a child star. And when he became a teenager, you’d think he’d be a troublemaker to us, but no! We would cancel any plans we had just to be in his presence. He was such a joy to be around.
OK, I don’t think I can go on anymore with this. I tried, but here’s the truth. I was an adorable baby, but being the youngest and the only boy, man was I spoiled. My mom and grandmother spoiled me so much, my father and sisters just gave up. They’d walk by and just shake their heads. No matter what I did, my mom and grandmother wouldn’t let him discipline me at all. To my mom and grandmother, I was “The Prince.” To my sisters, I was what they called “a brat brother.”
My older sister Linda got married when I was 5 and she was 19, so I really didn’t cause her much headache until much later, but my poor sister Sharon, she was only 7 years older than me, so when she was dating, I was so horrible to her and her dates. I grew up with a pool table in our garage, so by the time I became a teenager, I was hustling people for money, and that included the guys my sister brought home. She was not very pleased.
And once, when I was around 12 years old, Sharon, who was 19 at the time, was at a friend’s house around the corner, I called her and said in a scared and panicked voice, “someone is trying to break into the house and he has a knife,” and then I hung up the phone. I waited about 5 minutes and her car came flying into the driveway. I put on a white t-shirt and poured ketchup all over the front of it and laid just inside the front door with a knife on the floor next to me. She came in, saw me and started screaming. I started laughing. OK, look, I thought it was hilarious! Her, not so much! She wanted to really kill me, but her friends were cracking up. Thank God she didn’t call 911, my mother would have actually killed me.
That’s the kind of spoiled, bratty little brother I was, and I don’t know how they tolerated me, but as we got older and I matured, we became the closest siblings you’ll ever see. My mom’s last words before she died were, “take care of each other,” and let me tell you, they’ve taken care of me and I’ve done my best to always be there for them. So even though it’s the day after National Brothers Day, find your sibling in person or online or on the phone and tell them you love them and always take care of each other and don’t be a brat like I was!