March 4, 2015
Dear Teacher
Let the record show that you must read the entirety of this opus
in order to arrive at a brief summary of what I believe life was like in our
family before JJ was born. Excuse me, I mean John-Joshua. Wait, I mean John….whatever.
JJ is number 6. In our family he is number 6. Or number 7
depending on whom you count. That’s how I talk about my siblings with other
people because I have multiples of each gender. I also refer to him as JJ. I
believe he goes by John at school, and I don’t blame him. It’s easier than
having to explain to people why your parents named you John-Joshua… as in you
have two first names. Not one
of the guys who has two first names as full names, but the guy who has two actual first-name first-names.
Let the record also show that I will not divulge THAT family secret of
how he got two first name first-names. Every family deserves their secrets. If
you ask, I will send Olivia Pope your way while I go sit in the sun with my
Izuegbu Gladiators.
But I digress.
Anyway, when JJ informed me via text message
that he needs my help with a paper. One of his teacher’s had asked him to get a
family member to do write about life before him I astutely retorted, “JJ, I’ll
help you edit and brainstorm but I will not write your homework for you. I want
you to understand hard work.”
He elaborated that said teacher actually wanted a
perspective of life from before he was born to which I quipped, “Yeah… well I’m
the oldest so I have the worst memory out of the 6 of us. You should ask one of
the other ones” and we leave it at that. (I’m #1 or #2 depending on how you
count. Or #3 if you count my dad, but he’s no longer with us so…yeah things get
awkward when you try to tell people that.)
He calls me the next day about this assignment as I’m
walking into my abode after a long day that had followed a night of insomnia, about
the assignment. Below is an edited version of our conversation in question. If
you want any proof that I’m an older sibling, I began with
#1: If this is your homework, just tell me. You don’t have
to lie.
(Paraphrased &
Edited)
#1: Do
your homework. Teachers don’t grade students on things that family’s write.
That makes no sense. How much time did she give you to complete this? Is this
for extra credit?
#2 I’m
serious. (He sends me images of the assignment in question because it’s 2015
and I need proof.)
#1: Oh.
She’s for real! (grumbling, annoyed, wanting to change and dry my now wet
hair…it was raining.)
#2 Please
(or some other variation of help me, I want to do well in the class. I need
to do well on this assignment)
#1: This
makes no sense
#2 PLEASE!!!
(…or some variation of that)
#1: Don’t
you have 4 other siblings? Get one of them to do it
#2 #5
(Jr in college) – has an exam and needs to study for it
#4 (Snr in college) – doesn’t
respond to texts or any sort of communication
#2 (married nurse) – I’m…..
snorezzzzz zzzzz zzzz
#3 (nurse who lives with #6) – I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS! I HAVE A LIFE!)
Please. You’re my last hope.
#1 Fine!
BUT I reserve the write to say whatever I want however I want. (Dear teacher. I
edited. I respect educators. My
mom’s a teacher, I often teach/coach/mentor and #5 wants to enter education.
But I was still not enthused about it.
And so I spent the next 30 minutes thinking about how to
summarize life before JJ was born.
I considered I haiku from the perspective of one of the siblings…
Haiku
There’s another one.
Another boy. Finally.
Who wants to go play?
I considered copying and pasting our text msg exchange…
That would make this too long…because you know this description is already short
I considered sending baby pictures of what we all looked like pre- and post- “The Coming of the Second Son”….
But I don’t live in Houston at the moment so that was a nay.
But here goes.
I’m writing from the perspective of one of his many
siblings. We were all born very close in age to parents who wanted a family.
Born so close in age, in fact, that I myself have no memories of being the only
child. So essentially, life has always involved our family growing. It doesn’t
feel as if life before was much different. I’m sure it was and that my mother
could give greater detail. I’m also sure we were all excited, for the most
part, about a new sibling/playmate. But I can’t quite say which “baby” memory is attached to
which sibling. Which one took the long to potty-train.? Which one stopped
breast-feeding earliest? Which one’s head got rammed into a wall by accident?
Doesn’t really matter. We were just a bunch of babies roaming around a house
becoming friends and enemies and friends again. We were just the Izuegbus. And
after his birth, we were bigger and more full of life.
Warmly
#1
PS. Please forgive me and do not judge JJ or my family for
anything written in this opus/essay/whatchamacallit/standupcomedybit. I think
I’m the weird one.
PSS (or PPS). Feel free to give him extra credit. I think he needs it. I’m the smart
one (IM KIDDING….)
PPSS. Or PPPS. Or PSPS. Or PSS……..
I am a real person. Feel free to verify essay at nizuegbu@post.harvard.edu
