Somethin' about nothin'

My baby brother is over six feet tall with a shaved head, tattoos, monster truck, and loves a good party…the big teddy bear. Every time I see him I can’t help but picture the little 4yr. old running through the tall grass fields in Washougal, WA. He was the toe-head of the group, so it was always easy to find him.

We lived at the top of a large hill, with our cousins house on one side and us on the other. At the bottom of this hill, and through many pine trees, was our bus stop.

We always feared this bus stop because of the abandoned bear cave on the other side of the dirt road. It was dark, damp, and the most terrifying sounds would escape through the blackness. Granted, it was only  when the wind whipped through it…but for any young child to hear a dark cave moan and howl is nightmare producing material at best.

We were scared to death of that cave and would often times stay at the top of our favorite tree for hours until we were sure it was safe to run home.

Well, kids will be kids and I very clearly remember my dear baby brother being especially annoying one day, so we quite eagerly told him that we saw the bear/monster and it was by the entrance of the cave. Our description was of course the most gruesome description two 7yr olds and one 6yr old could conjure up.

…and we may have elaborated on how this imaginary bear was going to swallow him whole because he’s small and blonde. (Hey, we were kids…the rationale worked for us.) He climbed the tree as fast as his little body could manage while screaming in his 4yr old way that no bear was capable of catching Spiderman (this was during the time of the oh so fabulous Underoos).

When we were sure that he was close to the top we turned to run back to the house to play…leaving him alone in the tree. We laughed at how easily our devilish plan came together, and for awhile we basked in our brilliance.

After what seemed like a few hours, our mom noticed that he was missing and started to ask questions. This is the point in time where she mutated into something you’d be more apt to see in a Poltergeist movie (without the vomit). Flames began to shoot out of her ears, nose, and mouth. Her head started to spin and her eyes bugged out of her head as she declared that our own heads were going to roll if we continued to remain silent. Let’s just say that we were no longer basking and had a serving of humble pie instead. Darn Moms always spoil the fun.

After mom wrapped up the lesson in humility, obedience, and brotherly love, I was “nominated” by her to be the one to go back out to get him…

(ugh!)

(drat!)

(I dragged my feet as slowly as possible)

(stupid brother, scared by an imaginary bear)

(I checked to make sure that my path was clear from any bears.)

And then I saw him.

Suddenly, this this wave of guilt moved through me. What is this new feeling? Why do I feel so terrible and why won’t it go away?

Tears were streaming down his small face, leaving a trail through the dirt mask he was wearing. My raccoon looking brother was scared and crushed…and my heart began to break. At that moment I swore I’d never leave him stranded in a tree again. Mind you…I was young, so to me this meant that it was entirely acceptable to still continue to pick on him. Leaving him in a tree however was where my line was firmly drawn.

Okay, so the bear scaring thing was off limits too. Besides, he didn’t need any help in that category. We were all scared, and continued to be until we moved away when my sister and I were in the 4th grade. Our move took us to where bear caves and trees no longer existed…but other monsters, even more terrifying than our bear monster, seemed to scream at us from every building we entered. How would I protect my brother from this new beast when we were surrounded by them at all times? They were called slot machines…and that’s another story.