It is not without the help of a person 617 days my senior that I ended up as borderline tolerable as I did.From stealing his Space Jam cassette in third grade and jacking his Master of Puppets tee four years later, to making sure I credited Jason Alexander with his pivotal role not only in Seinfeld, but Duckman, too—my older brother has played a crucial role in the human I am now.Firstborns usually have the filial upper-hand. They're the first. They're Moses. They've come to save us, or something. They have way better baby photo albums, and virtually no discoloured hand-me-downs. But, what they don't have is a sibling to (however aggressively or apathetically) lead them through life's hoops and build their social armour—whether in the form of pure physical or psychological torture, or through the runoff learning of all sorts of facts, stats, and other seemingly useless information (that would, years later, actualize themselves as arrows of pretentious pop culture references, earning the coveted conversational badges of "Who the hell is Randy Rhoads?" and "No one cares that Chef and Shaft are the same person.").
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This said, my relationship with my brother is not necessarily a unique story, nor one of any extraordinary significance—siblings in general often sustain tumultuous rapport with one another, born of equal parts torture and love. For some, the scale tips more on either end. And, as you grow up, move out and talk less, it is easier to look back on the years and moments that, at the time, were total bullshit, with nostalgic enchantment.So, I thought I'd ask some other younger siblings what fond memories or growing pains stand out.My parents' general disdain for seeing their children happy, paired with their absolute inability to care for us, made for a weird mix of a negligent-yet-strict [upbringing]. I think the idea was if my sister was forced to bring me everywhere she went, she'd be forced to behave. This was a young girl who had multiple peace bonds—juvenile versions of restraining orders—against her by the age 14, who would grow up to be the loosest cannon you've ever met. Like, eat-her-and-her-partner's-passports-and-get-stuck-in-a-foreign-country kind of loose.So, my childhood was pretty much a blur of being that 10-year-old kid at the party camo-clad in a raccoon hat. I was simultaneously a pain in the ass and a party favour. I'd be in elementary school driving my dad's Oldsmobile full of drunk teenagers around dirt roads. Or bare-knuckle boxing my friends cock-fight style for [my sister's] viewing pleasure; being forced to smoke and get loaded on Mike's Hard Lemonade, and generally just being the ringmaster of entertainment for countless drug trips. I also got the fucking tar pounded out of me regularly. One time, she broke my pinky finger by bending it back so far, my fingernail cut my arm. As a result, I was the toughest little fucker. Now, she's a mom with a real job, and I'm still out getting loaded in a raccoon hat. No more Mike's Hard though.
KT Lamond, 28
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Anthony Filangeri, 27
Brian Stever, 27
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We arrived at our friend's house, and the guys started slamming back beers. I was double-fisting too, except in one hand was a bottle of beer and the other was a bottle of Pepto Bismol. The bottle of pink liquid went down faster than the beer itself, and I laid down on the floor as my senses started to go into overdrive. Light hurt my eyes, the music was too loud, and my skin felt like it was on fire. My friend Matt stood over me and jokingly said, "Dude, I think you need an appendectomy." If only we knew in that moment how right he was.Nearly three hours passed by, and it was almost midnight. The guys were all drunk, and I was still laying on the floor, barely coherent. I was soaked in sweat and freezing cold. Nobody cared. I called my mom who was at a party down the street, I told her I needed to go to the hospital. I didn't think I could drive but I was the only sober one. I mustered up all the strength I had left and, clutching my abdomen, I got behind the wheel of our car. A couple minutes later, we pulled up to my mom's friend's house to pick her up, [and] a whole slew of drunk middle-aged women came staggering out to the car. She asked me if I could drive her friends home. This seemed like a cruel joke, but for some reason I said yes.It was nearly 45 minutes until we finally reached the hospital, but that's when it hit me—I didn't have my health card. I started to panic. I thought I wouldn't get in, I was worried they wouldn't help me. I must have been thinking out loud or maybe it was twintuition, but that's when my brother [older than me by one minute] gave me the greatest gift I've ever received. He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and gave me his health card. "They'll never know," he said, "We have the same DNA."
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It didn't really hit me until weeks later. My appendix was removed in reality, but on paper, my brother's was removed too. What if he has appendicitis some day? What will happen if he needs to get his removed? Will they know? Almost ten years later, to this day, I haven't sorted out this issue. I feel like I should probably tell the hospital, but I'm kind of nervous to admit that it happened. I'm also pretty sure it's illegal, but who's to say I'm not actually Dennis anyway?
PK Batth, 26
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Erin McKenna, 24, and Katie McKenna, 26
Alia Hack, 27
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My brother Justin was always playing tricks on me. Another time, were playing Scrabble, and he wrote the word "nugget," but he used two blanks for the Gs, except they weren't blanks. He flipped over the letters and pretended they were Gs. I remember it perfectly for two reasons—one, he got triple word score, and two, he didn't reveal he did this until after the game was over. He always had everyone laughing, except for me. But it taught me to relax and not take life so seriously. I'm now a way cooler person because of him.
Rich Aucoin, 33
Photo courtesy of Jonathan LoiselleMy sister is eight years older than I am. When I was four or five years old, she was babysitting me. It was my nap time, and she told me to go in my room. She had her friend hiding under my bed dressed in a monster costume, and when I was asleep, her friend lifted my bed from underneath and then chased me out of the house.Another time, my sister and my dad were watching Child's Play, and I was trying to get a sneak peak at my first horror flick. My sister saw me.I had one of those "My Buddy" dolls, and, while I was sleeping, she took it out of my room, painted its hair red, tied a knife to its hand, and left it for me when I woke up. She was pretty much the worst. She's OK now though.Follow Hillary Windsor on Twitter.