Hardly the Corleone family, I give you that much. But if we were the Corleone family, well, I'd definitely be Michael.
I've been thinking about family quite a bit lately. In fact, I may be thinking about family even more in the weeks to come. I have some work to do in that regard.
Anyway, I was talking to my older brother the other day about family stuff, and while we're only 15 months apart, his memory for days long since past is far better than mine. Astoundingly better, in point of fact. That's both a conundrum and a shame. The conundrum(1) part? Given that there isn't that much difference in our ages, just why in the heck can't I remember as much as he does? It's seriously surreal. The shame part? There's just a lot that I've missed...including people and places. It's not as if I have vague memories; in fact, I basically have virtually none. It's as if I was born being 5 years old (and even then I don't remember all that much).
(Back to when I apparently wasn't busy remembering things...as in any things)
Some recent feedback centers around the notion that I may(2) be guilty of "intellectualizing" all too often. I'm still pondering that one in general, but when it comes to how I've approached things like my family, especially as it relates to my siblings, well, it's tough commentary to refute. Maybe it all goes back to the notion that I was raised in what amounted to Scranton Campus of the Vulcan Science Academy(3)...without Vulcans and Science...but with lots of yelling at young men for aiming at, but serially missing, the toilet.
With apologies for the overt Star Trek references.
(1) I'll be honest: I really like the word conundrum, so using it twice in this posting is kind of neat. Conundrum (make that 3 times), as a word in the English language, isn't used nearly enough, in spite of the many conundrums (make that 4 times) we face in the United States today.
(2) An easy one: The term "may" is me being overly kind in this context.
(3) Translation: Growing up, there wasn't much tolerance for the expression of emotions. Basically, my mother had two emotions: Pissed Off and (Not) Pissed Off. The boys? We were just allowed one.