Cats & Dogs...

Never a cross word between them, each sister loves the other first and foremost, more than life itself.

OK, I’m lying. I mean they’re sisters for Pete’s sake.

(An Aside: Who is Pete? Google says the use is a euphemistic variant of “for Christ's sake”, invoking Saint Peter.)

Anyway, you get my point.

Both girls have now grown into strong, independent, women, successful in most ways that matter, but very different people.Same DNA, same environment growing up, but as opposite as cats and dogs. Other parents tell me the same thing, I hear it all the time. It’s curious how that happens so frequently.

No matter how close the kids are or aren’t, some degree of sibling rivalry is inherent and unavoidable though.

When I used to mount that bazooka of a VHS Camcorder on my shoulder to film them on Christmas mornings, I captured hours of film that is reminiscent of the stories vets tell me about their Vietnam experiences. Long hours of total boredom, interrupted by flashes of frenzied insanity. Those old tapes, since converted to CD’s, hold some of the most excruciating, mind-numbing video of nothing going on, ever filmed, occasionally interrupted by brief sparks of incriminating dirt worth watching.

Ruth would be all sweetness and smiles, totally sucking up to the camera and hogging the spotlight. Hannah is five years younger and in those days wanted to do everything her big sister did. So she would come toddling over to get in some camera time with sissy. Ruth smiled broadly into the lens, giving it her saccharine best, waiting for the slightest diversion to unceremoniously push Hannah down and out of the frame. Hannah was unable to pronounce the first letter of her words back then so in background you can hear a hurt whine, objecting to her sister’s nastiness: “Ditter, Ditter!” incredulous that she would be so brutally discarded.

Fast forward ten or eleven years when Ruth left the house to go see her friends. The front door closing after her was like a starting gun at the races for Hannah. She would break into her sister’s locked bedroom and ransack her closet. Ruth always liked clothes and Hannah liked a bargain, free was best. I don’t believe Ruth ever did find out what happened to those tall suede boots of hers.

A few years later after Carla and I moved to a new house, and the girls took over the old one, housemates. Hannah was a nightmare of independence that observed no house rules, hours, private property, or any expectation of “normal” civil behavior.

Ruth is like me, quiet, orderly, and somewhat predictable. Hannah like her mom, out of the box, spontaneous, with no embarrassment button or governor on her speed.

Spending time with Ruth is soothing, quiet, intelligent and rejuvenating. I’ve always said that spending time with Hannah is like being sealed in a jar with a beautiful hornet.

These days, Hannah is miffed that Ruth follows other yogis on Instagram, but doesn’t even follow her own sister. Hannah sees it as a lack of support. Ruth is tired of people asking: “Oh, are you hannahgypsyon’s sister?” Ruth wants to be known as Ruth.

When it comes to siblings though, we all have our cross to bear. When I went to my 25th High School reunion, (26 years ago TYVM), I was frequently asked by my own classmates: “Wow, are you Kenny Haller’s brother?” Kenny and I were like Ruth and Hannah. He was a bit of a wild-man, well known by the guys, girls, and the police. Mr. Excitement, I studied fruit flies in my bedroom.

So I didn’t make a splash, and he did, but still, when my own classmates asked if I was Kenny Haller’s brother like I may have some kind of a celebrity connection, was bad. It was the only thing that may prevent them from immediately turning away and going to the bar. 

Pretty depressing, I understand, Ruth.

At the end of the day (another over-used cliché) Kenny and I are blood. Ruth and Hannah are too.

I just hope they both remember that when we all share a B&B for a week next month in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico.

I want to feel safe when I eat food in the house or walk to the bathroom in the dark. No ex-lax cookies, no toilets covered with Saran wrap. They’ve outgrown that kind of thing, right?

My hope is that Ruth’s shoes all go back home with Ruth, in her own suitcase, and no one asks if she is hannahgypsyons sister, and that when Hannah is spotted doing handstands on the top spire of the Cathedral, Ruth applauds along with everyone else.

My prayer is that we all just laugh and have a great time, even if we have to pretend to be close and like each other.

We need to keep up appearances, the way all nice families should.