Shamrocks & Sibling Gaps

The luck of the Irish is something a little boy born on 3/17 at 3:17 p.m. will always be able to claim though there may not be a drop of Irish blood show up in an Ancestry.com DNA test. Shamrocks and green are a birthright to my latest grandson, Kooper Michael Montgomery, who today enters the Terrific Twos, a delightful leprechaun born to a family already fully grown before his arrival.

You may note his middle name was gathered from myself and his maternal grandfather, Mike Somers, and that’s a source of pride for both old guys. However, I share more than just a name with my grandson. I share a birth order legacy as well.

Kooper and I are both products of what I’ve come to identify as the Sibling Gap. We are both 16 years younger than our closest sibling and 18 years tardy to the eldest. This means we will never know sibling rivalry because there’s no way nearly grown children can compete with a baby. We’re just too darn cute, especially to older parents who have been dealing with teenage years.

I see Kooper traipsing along in the family crowd, big as anybody despite the fact he’s a bush in a forest of relatives. Of course, as the family baby he likely sees us as merely tall, two-eyed minions. The world revolves around the Baby of the Family as a perk of natural birth selection.

I can advise my grandson there is a downside to being 16 years the baby. The major one is everyone has supervisory rights over you, parents, grandparents, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, grown cousins. Even the dog who has been on the scene prior looks at you suspiciously and may growl instructions.

Another downside is the siblings leave the nest before the family favorite is ready. I had a brother until I was about two and then there was a gap where he was in Oklahoma “cowboying” on ranches. All I had was a picture of him on horseback for about four years. My sister deserted me not long after as she married that nice Henry boy who brought me toys as bribes to get to take my Nancy out without me accompanying as chaperone.

There can be perks to the siblings deserting. Sister Nancy and new brother Henry got married and started having their own family. I became an uncle at four and while the niece and nephews were more like little brothers and sister, I was “Uncle Mike” from the beginning and remain so.

Kooper’s eldest is sister Kelsey and one projects she will someday marry and have a family just like Nancy Jo. Of course as Kelsey’s grandfather, Uncledom doesn’t need to happen to Kooper as young as I experienced. We can wait as long as necessary to make sure the choice is as good as Henry Teague turned out to be.

Kody is the closest sibling and I think we can guarantee he won’t be going off to Oklahoma seeking horseback adventure. Kody will likely be Kooper’s closest playmate/friend as the little guy grows up. I predict they will be close their entire lives and someday the caretaker role may reverse.

The strangest thing about growing up as a late addition to the family is realizing there are whole decades of experience and history that happened “before you were born”. In my case it was significant…World War II. My dad went off to war and when he came back my mother quit driving. I never knew my father with dark hair or my mother behind the wheel.

The biggest thing I missed growing up late in my family was grandparents.

I only had maternal grandmother Ethulah Witten, who did oblige me by living to be 95. But Grandpa Sid Witten died in the late 1930s in a car wreck. Paternal grandmother Ann Hallmark died prior to 1920 and George Hallmark, who I was named after, died about the age I am now of a heart attack just before he was to come to see his namesake. I’ve always felt cheated by the trip that never was.

Thankfully, I’m in good health and so is Kooper’s other Mike namesake. Grandmothers Jan Hallmark and Judy Somers seem destined to far outlive both Mikes. I'm grateful Kooper won’t know the emptiness of a grandparent void while growing up.

So, to celebrate a St. Patrick’s Day birthday, I’ve got on my green underwear (in case anyone checks), shamrock argyle socks and a “Lucky Papaw” shamrock shirt for the party this evening. I stand ready to share in a green punch toast to our Leprechaun Prince and my own good health to see many more St. Paddy Days.