Brothers

Brothers are an amazing thing. I'm especially thinking of the older kind, the kind that are tall and at least five years older than you, mainly considering them because I happen to be most familiar with that species. Why, you may wonder, and the answer is obvious: I happen to have three.

Yes, indeed, brothers are made so you can get along with others. Probably the only reason I've never really had a fight with any of my friends is because I've had so many with Clyde I'm nearly above them. The result is that I get along well with pretty much everyone, because now I know how to avoid a fight. The role of the sibling is very necessary indeed.

One benefit of brothers is how wonderful it is to feel proud of them. It may be that he's graduated top of his class, or writes an amazing musical piece, or makes a point in basketball that's the turning point of the game. But it's a healthy thing to feel proud of others, and brothers are a prime model to do it by.

Brothers are great in other ways too, even if they tease like crazy. Such as helping give you a more well-rounded movie taste for action and such. But they won't be too snobby if you like the girl things either; actually, Chad was the one that gave me Beauty and the Beast, Craig gave me Ever After, and Clyde owns Pride and Prejudice. Not bad, eh? However, they have their limits. Not to mention them being around to scream in horror whenever you put on the slightest form of make up. Probably why I never really liked the stuff too much.

There are other roles in the family circle that people may not think about. It is the Dad's job to school his older sons in the ways of physical education, is it not? Therefore it is the older son's duty to learn the younger son in the athletic ways. But what if this younger son is not a son, but a daughter? Surely it is no longer the older son's responsibility to worry about, is it? Wrong! I believe it is just as much the older brother's job to teach his little sister sports as it is to teach a little brother. If any older brothers out there are wondering why their younger sisters are so awful at every sport they attempt (or despise sports, merely because they can't play them) they must realize that is mostly their very own fault. In fact, although there are a few exceptions, some of the most athletic girls you see out there have either a big brother or an active father.

I must admit that I have some of the best examples of brotherly teachers. If not for my brothers, I probably would loathe sports. For if not for them I probably wouldn't be able to serve, bump, or spike a volleyball, hit, throw, or catch a ball, or even know how to shoot a basketball correctly. Each of these valuable skills they have dutifully taught me, with utmost (and I mean utmost!) patience and diligence, and I don't know what I would have done without them. Why, even last night, Clyde and I went down to the gym just so that he could try to teach me how to throw better. Then we addressed the matter of warball, and as kindly as a brother may, whammed some hard ones at me (the kind that burns like fire even when it nicks your arm) just so that I could practice catching them. Now that's what you call a sacrifice!

So now that I've given so much credit to them, maybe they won't complain as loudly that I'm on the computer too long. I guess that's just another job of the brother.