Being a big sister has been rewarding in many ways, but mostly I was different than all the other sisters in the world; I was cool. In college my brother proclaimed, “I’m going to live wherever you live when I get older, sissy.” His loyalty ballooned my heart and helped me catch my breath in various stages of my life. There was always this little guy that thought I was the coolest person in the world. When my bruised ego pushed my shoulders to the ground, there he was–I was cool. When I felt I couldn’t love anymore, there he was–someone I truly loved.
While I did the college thing at Oklahoma State University in Stillwater, OK, my little brother tagged along a couple weekends as I visited the local hangouts. When I lived in Dallas, Texas during my Turn On, Tune In, and Drop Out phase, he was sent to stay with me and get me out of the Tie Dye. After fame and fortune left me like a one-night stand, he came out to New York City to let me know that I was a star in his world. There hasn’t been a place I’ve lived that my brother Blake hasn’t visited.
This visit was different and as my place in life had solidified over the past few years, his was changing in every way every single day–adolescence. In fact, for the first time in his life I wasn’t cool. I suppose I thought I would always be the cool big sister and never that old fart that referred to his uber bass levels as too loud or the uncool old hag that couldn’t point out cool truck rims from regular ones. Even working at MTV wasn’t cutting it in his world since ‘MTV hadn’t been cool in over a decade’ and Maplewood, NJ was a suburbia he didn’t think he could live. For the first time in my life I had moved from an era of cool into 31 is not cool.
As he walked out the door this morning from my New Jersey Colonial to head back to Oklahoma after a visit to my first laying of roots, I knew our dynamic had shifted. No longer would life send my little brother to check on me and lift me up, but rather I would be sent into his to return the favor.