Saturday, May 5, 2018

Battle Royale

Sibling fun. Trudy and Fred with Tracy off-camera holding Fred's face
If you have a sibling, then I’m sure you have experienced some sibling rivalry. And, I’m sure there have been times when you have hated having a sibling or maybe even wanted to hurt them. That was the same for us. Our lives may have been different in many other ways, but the sibling rivalry was there, and it was there in force!


From a very young age, Tracy and I were always viewed as one so we almost always fought as one as well. Even with two of us, Fred was unbearable! He was the meanest brother around and would beat us up any chance he could. He not only would beat up Tracy and me, but he also would beat up our cousin, Joey, and treat him poorly because he was so close to us. I don’t think Fred liked that there were three of us, so he would beat us up to prove that having more wasn’t always an advantage. Maybe it was just that we were all too scared of the consequences to fight back, so we always were the victims and Fred would get the worst of the punishments.


There were so many things that would provoke Fred to beat us up. Most of the time it didn’t make sense the things that would cause so much fury within him. If he felt left out because he didn't know what we were laughing about, that could cause him to beat us. If we said a swear word, that could incite a beating. If we didn’t help with his chores, he would beat us. If he was chasing us and we ran faster than him, he would wait for the perfect time and beat us up. Basically, anything we did on the farm could cause Fred to beat us up. It just depended on what kind of mood he was in. He rarely caused any real damage, which was usually more infuriating than if he actually had. He would punch, kick, hit or slap us, but there were rarely bruises that could be seen. Without bruises, there was no proof and therefore no punishment for Fred, but Tracy and I would get in trouble for tattling.


Sometimes when Tracy and I would tell on Fred but have no proof, the adults would find new ways to punish us. They would have whoever told on the other kid hold hands while doing chores with that kid. So, if I told on Fred for beating me up, they would make me hold his hand while milking the cows. It was annoying because it forced us to be even closer to the enemy.


When I was a kid, I basically had no muscles, but I was super fast. So many times, Fred would get mad at something Tracy or I did, and I would get him to chase after me instead of Tracy and I would run fast and far. He rarely caught me. It was truly terrifying because I knew that if he did catch me, he would beat the crap out of me, and I would be in a lot of pain. I literally could run for a few miles around the farm before he gave up and decided catching me wasn’t worth it. If only I had that speed now!


There were a few times when Tracy and I actually caused harm to Fred. The difference was, when we really hurt him, we felt bad. There was one time we were all kind of rough-housing around one of the metal beams in the barn where the hay was stacked and ready to feed to the cows. Well, it started out as fun until one of us pushed Fred too hard and he fell back HARD against the metal beam. His head was bleeding and it looked really bad. Turns out he had to go to the emergency room and get stitches. Of course, that was an extreme incident, and we both felt bad about it. I’m pretty sure we were both pointing the finger at each other, so I can't really say who was the one to actually push him that final time when he hit his head.

Most of the time, Tracy and I didn’t fight with each other or hurt each other, but of course, living on the farm, we did fight occasionally. And even when we weren’t fighting, there were accidents. I have lead in my body as a reminder of two of these times Tracy decided to get rough with me. Once, she was doing homework on the bed and told me to come up with her to do my homework. She had her #2 pencil pointed upward, and I didn’t see it when I jumped on the bed, and the point went deep into my knee. That spot is a pretty significant mark even to this day. It’s kind of fun to have this war wound, though, and I get excited to tell people about it. The other spot of lead in my body is in my upper arm. Tracy was playing doctor with a mechanical pencil and ended up pushing too hard when “giving a shot” so the lead went in and broke off in my arm. This spot is much smaller but can still be seen to this day.

Probably one of the more extreme incidents on the farm was something I did. Fred was being his normal annoying self and acting like he was better than Tracy and me. It was the summer, and we were a little older, 13 and 14, so we had the task of cleaning the pens. To someone not familiar with farms, this means nothing, but cleaning pens was the worst job ever. Poop was literally a couple of feet deep, and it could have been there a long time. We would have to get through the hard exterior layer to get to the stuff that was underneath that was easier to scoop out. This job was done using pitchforks and, I’ll say it again, it really sucked! For some reason, Fred thought he didn’t have to help us, and that pissed me off. He came by taunting us about the work we were doing and the fact that he wasn’t helping, and I just couldn’t handle it. So I took my three-tined pitchfork and heaved it at Fred like a freakin’ trident! It flew hard and fast, and I’m SO thankful that Fred jumped out of the way just in time. It missed him but went deep into the tire of the car that was parked behind where Fred stood - my “grandma’s” car. We worked together to pull it out of the tire, and then Fred joined Tracy and me and we diligently cleaned the stalls until we were granted a break. Shortly after the pitchfork was removed from the tire, “Grandma” took the car to go visit her mom. We later found out that she had to get it towed because the tire went flat. We never told anyone what happened. All the adults assumed that she must have run over one of the large nails that were around the farm. Honestly, I can’t say that I even feel bad about puncturing her tire. I would have felt bad if the pitchfork had hit Fred, of course, but I was kind of laughing that it went into her tire.


As we got older and learned more words, especially swear words, we would say them just to see how the adults would respond. Mostly, the adults didn’t care. But Fred, he cared. He was constantly telling Tracy and me to respect our elders (because he viewed himself as an elder, at 14 months older than us) and would get PISSED if we directed a swear word at him. This would incite a beating if he was close enough to conduct one. There was one time he was driving us home from school and one of us said something he didn’t agree with (likely we were swearing). He was furious that we wouldn’t apologize, but he was driving so he couldn’t do much. He literally pulled over on the side of the road and spit at us! The giant wad of snot stuck to the side of the van. It was disgusting! And then he continued driving home. We hated him for the majority of our childhood and into early adulthood.


Eventually - several years into college - our relationship evened out, and we were able to treat Fred as a normal person and not the mortal enemy (and vice versa). But back on the farm things always seemed like a battle for survival, and hopefully these stories provide some insight into how sibling rivalry can take on a whole new do-or-die meaning for farm kids.

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