Happy Birthday Brother

Yesterday was my Brothers 54th birthday. I love my brother, he is everything I'm not, tall, quiet and scholarly. I on the other hand am short, talkie and dyslexic. Not to say that I don't have my strong suits-they just take a bit of searching to find.
My brother was 5'11 when he was 10 years old. In Hoosierland where basketball and local sports is king, he was discussed and eyed in elementary school like a price calf at the fair. Once when he was in the 5th grade and I was in first we had a Magician come to Highland elemtary for a show. He called on the tallest boy in school to come to the stage and face "the guillotine". I already had tears down to my chest, when a sixth grade boy was picked, five inches shorter then my brother. I didn't care about fairness, I was just happy my brother was going to be alright.
Gary was also smart. He once told me if he ever had to study he would have made through school. I think his intelligents was more of a burden then an advantage. We were poor and white going to a middle class school.A feeling of alienation poor white and smart didn't work in class conscience Indiana. He uses to get migraine so bad in junior high we use to have tied a scarf around his eyes. He later took me how out of place he felt in the upper level classes.
Two years before the end of Vietnam War college deferments were taken away which meant he was drafted. He watched the upper middle class and the football jocks all get doctor to sign that weren't healthy enough for service. He hate the service and distrust the government still today.
Not that he is a Republican, but he has a distain for liberals. I’m liberal, but I understand his hatred completely. Except for Molly Ivins, I know of no other liberal who are willing to discuss the class system in American, most denied it even exists. My brother hates Bill Clinton for his remarks about Paula Jones being trailer trash. It is an odd remark from a man who prided himself coming from humble beginning. He uses to get migraine so bad in junior high we use to have tied a scarf around his eyes.

Recently I used the term “pop” for a soft drink in front of my brother. My brother thought I did it to cute. He poured out to 50 years of resentments to me. I realize it couldn’t have been easy having a gay-dyslexic younger bother.
My brother and I couldn’t be less alike, but I’m still he is still a source of pride to me and I’m very glad he didn’t get beheaded.
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