When my brother died, September 11, 1975; he hadn’t been speaking with my sister for six months. That was 44 years ago. That’s a hell of a burden for my sister to carry.
When my father died in 1989, he didn’t know whether his sister was alive or dead. It was a religion divide. Through genealogy I found out that she lived to a reasonable age, 102, dying in 2012.
I’ve also personally lost a sister from cancer. I have one sibling left, living in England. When I visit from 5,000 miles away she can’t even give up a game of golf or bridge, that’s why I steer away from those pastimes and concentrate on toy making and other voluntary projects. I have never missed my sister’s birthday. She’s acknowledged mine, three times since 1977.
My wife, Ellen, has been wonderful over the years, buying Christmas presents for England and rarely getting a thank you note. My late aunt had the solution; she’d send half a bank note to her nephews and sent the other half when she received a thank you note. However, I’ll never break my family ties even though our political views, on top of everything else, are miles apart.
Recently, I was outside the Library registering people to vote. I love this country and I believe citizens should have their voice. I’m a proud and staunch Republican because I know how destructive Socialism is for a country (check out England pre-Thatcher), but the venom that was spewed at me by Democrats was repulsive. I’m not a racist because I didn’t approve of Obama’s policies, but I never melted down.
If you vehemently disagreed with a sibling or a neighbor, just know they could be dead tomorrow. So please show a little tolerance and respect; this is America.
