I was born second. But not last. That honor goes to Michael, “The Unexpected.” Paul was the first and I was always okay with that. So that makes me the middle and I’m told that makes me a little messed up. They say middle children suffer from lack of attention. We weren’t the first. We weren’t the baby. We were the other kid that got lost in the shuffle. But I don’t see it this way. I had many formative experiences where I was the center of attention.
There was that time at Sherkston Beach when Mom had me hide in the storage compartment that was created in the way-back of our 1984 Chevy Caprice Station Wagon when you laid all the seats down. She closed the panel on me and then placed the cooler and other items on top, I assume to complete the illusion. Somehow this resulted in us saving money on the entrance fee. I was glad to be able to serve my family.
And what about the time my older brother and our even older cousin dropped a hammer on my head while they were building the tree fort? Or the time the same brother’s friend Andy gave me a concussion when he kicked me in the back of the head while I was blocking for him? These were huge for me. Lots of attention from my parents and even some medical professionals. The concussion came complete with a hospital stay and a foil Batman balloon.
I’m now thinking of how my younger brother, Michael, and I looked like twins for a few years in middle school. We even had matching glasses. We’d stick little decals on them so we each knew ours at a glance. So there’s more attention for you, though I had to share it. (We still get this from some people. Even though our glasses don’t match anymore.)
I could keep going but, as you can see, no issues here. Just fond memories of growing up in the middle. I got all the attention I needed and that’s why, as an adult, I blend right in…