The First

Firsts: The First

From what I’ve been able to ascertain, there’s a certain amount of pressure in being the first born of the family, pressure us younger siblings never know, nor honestly, care to know. The eldest gets/has to do everything first, that’s part of the job description, they set the example for the younger sisters and brothers. They are the trailblazers, the pathfinders, the true adventurers. The parents work out the kinks on the oldest, make more mistakes with the oldest and hold them to a higher standard, you could cook a thirty pound turkey under this kind of pressure, thank goodness I’m number three.

Yet with this title comes power, respect and an air of dignity, unless of course you were a first born in the Dies family. In that case you reign supreme over a group of lunatics, wild eyed maniacs and malicious usurpers that refuse to listen or learn, quite the honor. Both my older brother Rob and my eldest child Katey know these feelings are not an illusion, they are facts, plain and simple.

Both were put under a microscope at birth, the big stage, the hot lights, and always following the parents well manicured script. They are the dress rehearsal for the rest of us that follow. The expectations are harder to scale than the Himalayas in the dead of winter, with a much slippery slope, and all eyes are glued to them. They are the mega stars, the rest of us play supporting roles.

They are the first to dip their precious toes in the deep, cold water of life, school, sports, music, whatever awkward choice your parents decide that they’d be a prodigy in. Both however are extremely smart, well mannered and the most sophisticated of the family, but that and ninety nine cents get you a shitty little burger at Jack in the Box.

Both graduated from Cal State Fullerton, apparently a legacy for the Dies Clan. Both have done very well in their chosen profession and both feel like they could of done so much more. They are both artists with a blank easel and no idea how to paint, every stroke is a well watched family endeavor, the parents to critique, the others to try and duplicate or recreate much better. They set the bar, and both set it high, fuck heads, I was hoping to limbo under it, now I’ve been forced to sail over it, not that I have.

Of course the parents too are judged by the performance of their eldest, I don’t know how my parents felt, but I’m so damn proud of the human Katey has become. She is a bright star, she has set a clear, well kept path for her siblings, but you can’t follow a virtuoso pianist playing a pair of spoons, except maybe in Kentucky or West Virginia, but Rob lives in New York City and Katey in South Orange County. Both have cast huge shadows, nice for the rest of us to hide in and under. I play some mean spoons!

Yet to try to escape that shadow they cover us with, would be akin to hiding from the sun in the desert, to dream the impossible dream and all. With my parents now gone, Rob has settled into the family patriarch, and he’s concerned about all of his siblings, I love him for that. He lives three thousand miles away but he’s still directing the family traffic, not an easy tour if you lived within shouting distance.

Katey doesn’t have it easy either, she’s raising Aiden and Logan, the millennial version of Greg and Matt, no one promised her life would be easy, but at least it’s not the original cast members my parents struggled with. She makes it look fairly easy, but I have noticed she’s aging daily, although gracefully, I believe she’s pulling out her hair like her grandma did. Her siblings treat her kids like Greek Gods, and love them to the moon and back, they pitch in often, Rob never was afforded that kindness, of course he didn’t have adorable devilkins running amok.

Katey had been in her chosen field of law, no she’s not an attorney, she just argues like one, but for fifteen years she’s been an ace recruiter for some of the biggest law firms in the world. Rob has been in hospitality for nearly fifty years and always five star establishments, if I were the oldest I’d probably be in hostility for that many years.

Here’s to a much more prosperous and happy year, fuck 2020, it was a series of misadventures led by imbeciles, on both sides of the aisle. Lock and load my friends, 2021 is upon us and the rear view will not fog soon enough. Stay safe and live each other.

Crack Egg Out