Year three, enter Devan. And life was never the same again. No really, I'm sure it wasn't but I wouldn't remember because I don't remember a whole lot pre-Devan and I'm sure it was a lot less interesting. Which is no slight to my parents, it's just a given fact that as soon as Devan is added to any mix it becomes at LEAST more interesting.So yesterday (because I am sort-of-ish a day behind) I wrote (or rather drafted. As aforementioned, I'm sort-of-ish a day behind.) to Devan Whitacre, brother mine, come along when I was 3 (though really it quite feels like 4 as it was closer.) a poem. Not of the sappy variety, it's just a form of communication he and I have sometimes employed out of a love for children's literature, nonsense and word play. This is one of hundreds of elements that have made not only for a fun siblingship (this is so not a word.) but also one of my best friendships.
In trying to figure where to start on describing him or us as kids I just keep laughing. We were a neurotic, happy, worried, creative, weird little duo, and yes, all these were true at the same time. We could be a bundle of nerves worrying over something ridiculous, telling on ourselves over something guilt was eating us over("Why are you telling me this? You're not supposed to tell your Mother this!"-our poor exasperated Mother dealing with her weird little children.), having the time of our lives climbing trees, tromping creeks, swinging on vines or performing together at the OOH.
We made up lots of games and they were pretty awesome. Mom used to tell us yes we were welcome to wrestle in the living room as long as we knew she wasn't taking us to the hospital. There was also deathball, wet paper towels at Grandma's ceiling fan (that was a great game and Grandma approved this invention for the cleanliness of her ceiling fans. Until it backfired when she was showing the house and walked in with the family viewing it to see a paper towel still caught and swinging on a fan blade... You win some, you lose some), or Slip Socks where you get a running start and slide as far as you can on Grandma's shiny linoleum floors in your socks.(Disclaimer: It didn't actually have that fancy name that's just for the reader's benefit. ) And, Dev, what was that game where we would divide up the kitchen floor and then you could lose or gain ground depending on if you got caught sneaking past the divider line?
If it was not my bedtime past I could go on with a great many tales of misadventures with Devan. For now I'll say this: I'm so glad he's my brother and my friend. I'm so glad for the adventures and stories we share. I'm grateful for how we can keep in touch, how he brings out a side of me nobody else does, for how I've gotten to see him grow from a crazy kid to a crazy grown up who can tame, entertain and manage a room full of crazy kids and actually get them to put together a not just comprehensible but adorable and well performed show. I'm grateful for his walk with God and how that makes us double siblings. I love that I've gotten to perform with him from Who's on First as runt kids to Glass Menagerie as near grown ups. And I love that I got to see him marry his lovely bride Haley last year. And I really love that both of them after asked "Did we say our vows right? All we could really hear was the Peanuts Grown Up voices 'Wah wah wah wah, wah wah wah wah wah.' Incidentally, yes, they definitely said them right. ;)
https://youtu.be/yOCZ5K1vxCQ
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