My Sister Revisited

by Eva Pasco, author of "Underlying Notes"

The story about to unfold is sure to strike a chord in most of us whose childhood spanned the Sixties, even though it doesn’t tiptoe through the tulip garden of assassinations, unforgettable fashion, new musical styles, Camelot, civil rights, gay and women's liberation, Vietnam, the first manned landing on the moon, peace marches, world's fairs, flower power, hallucinatory trips, or sexual freedom. The nostalgic mind trip I’m about to embark on heads down the memory lane of sibling rivalry which I’d barely scratched the surface of in “Two Backseat Barbarians.”   

I cast the blame on age difference for instigating such animosity between two whirling dervishes as to nearly drive our parents over the edge. My baby sister unabashedly used her status to manipulate situations so I’d get in trouble.  Her gloating only served to further ignite my ire. By the end of the day my mother’s voice grew hoarse from hollering and verbally threatening to use the fly swatter on us. My father’s suggestion of separating the two of us only proved practical when my sister and I took to the backseat of the car by our respective windows—by no means foolproof during long road trips.  

Despite our poor relations, my sister always wanted to tag along wherever I went, even holding my hand along the way. I recall one such incident where my best friend Elaine walked from her house to ours back in the day when no one gave kidnapping a second thought.  My mother succeeded in keeping my sister inside the house while my friend and I played outdoors.  Thinking back, Snooks’s (her pet name) nose must have been pressed to the window, sorely disappointed she had been quarantined from Miss Prim (my pet name). Somewhere in the midst of reenacting a cowboy fight, Elaine, who outweighed me by about a hundred pounds, pretended to punch the daylights out of me.  Before I knew what hit us, my sister bolted out one of the jalousie doors on the breeze way and threw herself on top of Elaine, pummeling my assailant mercilessly. “Leave my sister alone!” she threatened. 

I won’t fib by stating we sailed without peril during our teen years.  What counts is where we are today—she on the West Coast and yours truly on the East, still different as night and day. But, we’re tight and our own best support team. Without reservation or hesitation, either of us would go to battle in defense of the other—verbally or with fisticuffs, if necessary, because blood is thicker than water. Love you, Snooks… 

Miss Prim

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