Cats and Dogs will Fight

I could recount each of my siblings’ upsets about unfairness with toy distribution.  I think all of us felt that John always got the best of things but it was actually for a good reason (as Dad told me when I was older).  The fact was that my Farmor did not approve of John.  She came on a visit when I was 9, Jeanette was 8 and John was 6.  Peter would have been 3 and Erik was one.  Charlotte wasn’t even a twinkle yet.

What Farmor didn’t like was that John would fight with Jeanette and I.  Now before everyone gets all riled up let me say that we fought like cats and dogs – once in a while.  Mostly we got along very well together but the fact was that Nette was always a little jealous of John and she was a terrific one for egging him on.  Once she had him all riled up she would come running to me and me, being the little champion of the “hard done by” would believe her version and then I would whale into John.  John was big for his age and Jeanette was a shrimp.  I was the avenging angel but John was strong enough to take us both on.  Our downfall, like Samson’s, was our hair.  He would grab our ponytails and swing us around mercilessly until Mom would come to separate us.  We were like Popeye and Bluto in the fighting dustbowl!  But my Farmor must have witnessed one or two episodes like this and for whatever reason she seemed to think John was the one in the wrong (which has me wondering about adults since he was 3 years younger and it was 2 against 1???) and consequently his gifts were somewhat lacking, in my parents’ opinion.  Hence they would supplement his gift with something bigger and better.  Naturally we didn’t know anything about this when we were kids, that was something that came out when we were adults and Farmor had passed away.

I am always somewhat surprised when others look askance at me when I say we hit each other since I know for a fact that other families in my neighbourhood also had fights.  It wasn’t like I grew up in the Bronx, we always lived in “nice” neighbourhoods.  It seems to me that it was simply normal for kids to fight and yes, we could slap and hit each other.  I don’t feel that I have been scarred by getting hit; naturally I don’t like it but it was “normal” and quite frankly I think it was maybe even good for us.  We were certainly a resilient crew and to this day we are all rather stoic with our fellow man.  It takes a lot for us to get mad at another person, the only thing that can set us off right quick is POLITICS.  But that’s another story.  J  Take that “he who shall not be named”.  Whack!