When your baby brother is 15 years younger than you, it is
easy to have lots of memories of him. I remember when he was born quite
clearly: a long night of watching Ben-Hur
backwards (well, part 2 first and then part 1) because it was the first time we
were left home alone all night, waiting til afternoon to know we had a brother,
and visiting him later in the day. I remember when he sat up for the first time
by himself. Of all the long hours of watching The Fox and the Hound, Old Yeller and The Lone Ranger. And all the years he wore cowboy hats, boots and
his play gun in his holster. A real cowboy.
I remember a little boy, about 6 or 7, coming into my
bedroom one day with C.S. Lewis’s The
Last Battle in his hands. He wanted to know if he was right about what some
part of the story represented. I, who had read the book 3 or 4 times, couldn’t
remember that part and had to look it up. An avid reader, he read every book in
Brian Jacques’s Redwall series a
dozen times. And read the entire Lord of
the Rings trilogy in one week between his school work, sleeping and
basketball and knew every detail of it.
Caleb was a researcher from a young age, bringing home piles
of books from the library – one week on tigers, another week on elephants,
another week on dogs. After reading the Al Terhune books over and over, he
wanted a Collie. He hunted one down and Rosie became a member of the family, a
lovely Collie who loves her master.
Today my baby brother is a US Marine. And we are all very
proud of him.
I have to admit that when Caleb was born, I was rather
hoping for another sister. I think I thought it would be more intriguing to say
I had only one brother and all sisters. But God certainly knew what was best
for our family. It’s hard to imagine what life would be like without Caleb; his
teasing, and jokes, and stories, and simply being a wonderful brother.
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