One of 5

As some of you may know I am one of five children. Count 'em 5!  When I started this blog post a few days ago I was unaware of the holiday designated just for siblings, Sibling Day.  So, as serendipitous as it is, Ill offer a tiny glimpse into the world of being one of 5.

As one of the oldest of 5  I remember when Number 4 was brought home from the hospital & when Number 5 was born.  It was the 1st of August sometime in the 80's.  He was born a month early & on the day Number 5 was brought into the world the doctor said to my mom "Hot diggity we're havin' a baby today!" The doctor also said "Here SHE comes!" Number 5 was born a boy.  A surprise to us all! Another surprise was that Number 5 looked nothing like the rest of of us. If truth be told none of us really look alike…but there was some organization in our appearance before Number 5 joined the krew- "The Girls"had blonde hair & blue eyes and "The Boys" had dark brown hair & green/hazelish eyes.  Number 5, like a wild card, had blonde hair, like the girls, & brown eyes, like no one….well, like both of our grandmother's. This amazed us Keating kids & made Number 5 even more fascinating.

Our mother had a laissez faire kind of way about her when it came to running a household of 5 children.  Her motto was "Everyone's welcome!".  And they were.  Our childhood home was full of neighborhood children coming in & out.  In the summer there were games of jailbreak or night tag or bike rides in search of adventure like the Goonies. And our basement? Our basement was a world onto itself.  Toys littered the basement floor (and our front lawn for that matter).  We (us & the neighborhood kids) were given free reign to tag the walls in the basement too. And by "tag" I mean we were able to draw, paint, & color the basement walls.  Whatever inspired us. It was on those walls that I learned to draw the 3d square box & my sister would write poetry.  We wrote our names or jokes or made pictures of cats or dogs.  We also organized haunted houses in our basement for friends and family to visit.  We thought we were so clever when we'd fill the barbie pool of water or ketchup and place the pool at the bottom of the stairs, lights off, in hopes that someone would step in it when touring the haunted house.

My parents were brave people.  They would plan road trips up & down the coast with all 7 of us packed into one station wagon (wood panel included & sometimes a dog(s)).  Mind you, these excursions took place before t.v's were built into cars so our entertainment would often include different ways of making each other cry before our dad would threaten to pull the car over or tell us "I can't make you do it but I sure as hell can make you wish you did" when being asked to apologize to the crying kid in the car.   Now some of the ways we made each other cry was by insisting on drawing pictures of one another.  This was usually done by Number 1.  The goal was to make the other excited that they were the chosen one to have a picture drawn of them.  As you passed through a state the person being drawn would sit still with the best pose they could possibly do, waiting for the masterpiece to be complete.  The portraits, however, were never flattering.  Ever!  And usually made the person being drawn scream and shout at the hideous depiction that was done of them.  And may the good lord help you should you do anything out of the ordinary on these car rides. On one 14 hour journey out of the blue Number 4 sings out Frank Sinatra's "Start Spreading the News" & he had already been listening to Bon Jovi for a great length of the trip.  Number 4 then put out a wish to the Car Gods (our parents) to stop at McDonald's for a burger and fries. His wish was granted.  From that day forward Number 4 inherited the nickname Joseph Bon McSinatra.  Then there was the time(s) we would tell Number 5 that Zin, a large talking lumber jack statue from a restaurant we had eaten at, was going to pick him up at the next stop or that our parents were going to have another baby.  This would inevitably prompt Number 5 to dive into the front seat (remember, it's the 80's so carseats were rarely used by this point), next to our parents looking for comfort & reassurance that "no, they were not having another baby" and that there is "no way that Zin  was out to get him."  There was also a time on one of these road trips that our father spent a few good hours packing our luggage on top of the cars roof.  While we traveled down the busy interstate we bore witness to our  suitcases tumble off the roof and onto the grassy side of the freeway (how lucky).  Like Evel Knievel the old man drove backwards to retrieve the fallen luggage.  What happened next baffled us all.  From a distance we noticed another car pull over to where the luggage had fallen-pick it up and drive off into the sunset (how unlucky?).  The suitcases were never to be seen again.

Pandemonium often followed our bunch & growing up in a family of  5 did in fact mean there was never a dull moment. But, it also meant that you always had a crew to hang with.  A crew that rolled deep.  Being one of 5 meant having immediate roommates on hand when moving out of your parents home & into your very first apartment.  It also meant instant friends when venturing to New York City, or California, or Chicago.  One of 5 meant a personal cheering section at your college graduation. Or having people by your side when mourning the loss of a parent (our father) or our grandparents (our rocks).  One of 5 meant having to leave the country to have people by your side when you fell seriously ill.  And having a team work effortlessly to bring you home safe.  One of 5 meant having people to dance with  into the wee hours of those Brooklyn nights & having a group come up to sing karaoke with you for the first time so you wouldn't have to be on stage by yourself.  One of 5 means not doing life alone.  And although our childhood may not have been considered "perfect" I am eternally grateful to have had the childhood I did- full of chaos & adventure with my 3 brothers & 1 sister.