Brother Scotty

This is my awesome big brother, Scott. Below is a something he wrote, based on a legendary Olsen story. It was too good note to share, so without his permission I am posting it for all to read. Sorry Scott! I chose to ask for forgiveness rather than permission :) 

"If your personality is based on one's life sum of experiences, you could call me misunderstood.  I'm not sure if I was set up by the cosmos or if my thought process reversed polarity from birth.  It's actually probably the result of too much sugar and Sesame Street.  Whatever the reason, it doesn't matter, as it has helped me learn many important lessons.  One of these lessons I had to learn the usual hard way,  and starts beyond which my memory can recall.

              I was seven, and my younger sister, Rebecca, was five.  She was a worthy warrior sibling in our growing family of six, aggressive enough to get what she wants, and just sweet enough to deserve what she wants.  However it started I do not remember, possibly it was over a care bear doll I wanted to torture, or possibly it was her torturing my transformers.  But I do remember kicking and yelling on the small landing in the middle of the carpeted stairway, with my sister ruthlessly clawing and biting at my bare legs.

              This was normal fighting tactic for her, fighting dirty was her game.  So I try to scramble away and end up catching her in a front tooth square with my heel.   I knew I had hit her pretty hard as I felt her tooth strike a chord and harmonize through my bones.  But the screaming is what confirmed my suspicions, and that scream worked,  it wasnt the kind that is threatening, but the kind that makes mom run.

              So mom arrives on cue,  assesses the situation and quickly determines  who must be at fault for this untimely distraction.  With my sister now stammering to catch her breath through the wails, pointing at me with one hand and covering her mouth with the other, I knew I was in trouble.     

"Scott Eric Olsen!", she yells, which sent real shivers down my body.  Whenever my full name was used, I knew this meant business.  I looked up with as innocent eyes as I could muster, silently pleading for some kind of mercy.

              "Did you do this on purpose or accident?", she says with a stern questioning voice.  As a wise seven year old, I was not privy to the meanings of these words.  I had heard them before I suppose,  they both sounded like good words,  but here I was faced with this dilema to pick between the two. The beating that ensued was not the grandest on the scale of other exploits, but it was one to remember.  Remember never to say you ever did anything on purpose ever again!

              In the end my poor sister paid dearly by being reminded of the incident constantly for the next few years.  Her tooth couldnt take the hit, and had died apparently, leaving it a dull grey.  It was not an adult tooth, thank goodness for that, as I perfer to relay this story at my own will.  I guess we are all reminded with family photos of this era and of the tumultuous rivalry we all shared and enjoyed. " `