I absolutely loved growing up in a big family, perhaps because I came along so much later. No arguments, no sibling rivalry, no jealousy, all fun. I was basically born into a party already happening.
I had four siblings from 11-16 who held and hugged me, rocked and rolled me.
I’d sit in my big sister’s room while she practiced her flute, eating popcorn from her huge tin and petting our Siamese cat. Then we’d hop in her boyfriend’s light-yellow Camaro, I’d sit on the console, and he’d hit the accelerator, launching me to the backseat. “Again, again!” I’d cry.
I knew every bit of every song from every group my brothers and sisters played – Yes, Journey, Rush, Pink Floyd, Fleetwood Mac, Heart, Supertramp, The Doobie Brothers, and everything in between. I watched the movies they watched, and I watched the drama that was their life.
Life was full; all I had to do was walk in the living room and watch it unfold – my older sister off to early-morning band practice before school, hair curlers in place; my younger older sister off for the evening in her “country” phase with boots and hat; my brothers headed to the lake on Saturday with beer and girlfriends who “forgot” to put swimsuits on under their towel dresses.
I saw a lot of things. Media too. Movies like The Exorcist made me scared to go to the bathroom alone for two years straight. Penthouse magazines in a brother’s closet introduced me to things I hadn’t ever imagined. However dismissing or oblivious my mom may have been, my parents’ goodness pervaded our home, and my upbringing was nonetheless loving and wholesome.
Bible verses like “Love One Another” decorated our walls and even came to my brother’s defense in a court case after a motorcycle accident that seriously injured one of his girlfriends. At high speed, he leaned into a curve and she leaned out. They skidded into a metal bike rack and her skull was in a halo for a year. His attorney used the plaque on our wall to illustrate to the jury that my brother came from a loving home.
Aside from umpteen loving messages and verses on the wall, there wasn’t any talk of God in our house unless we were praying before dinner. I knew we were expected to love others and be good, but as I got older I wondered what was actually in the bible. In church, bibles were never read. Instead, a missal was handed out each Sunday that showed some scriptures, some prayers, and some songs.
In my later teens, I got to wondering if anyone ever sat down and read the bible. Anyone? I wondered if people ever got together to discuss what was in it. It sounded kind of dreamy to me since I had never witnessed such a thing before. I figured I was the first to think of it since I’d never seen it in action. Deep-down, I figured it might not ever happen unless I got it going. Would I get it going?
to be continued…
Copyright © 2020 Edee Kulper, excerpt from a book in progress
