WE LCO ME TO

MIDDLEHOOD
BY JUDI KETTELER with their gray beards and joint replace-
ment surgeries. But you didn’t see them
with their full heads of dark hair, holding
the babies.
You roll your eyes at the stories they tell.
Don’t get me wrong. Their stories are eye-
roll-worthy. But isn’t that what a brother
does, no matter if he’s 10 or 64? The little
provocations and inside jokes. The memory
of getting away with it. The shared past.
There’s such genuine affection, which
could be hard to spot because it doesn’t
look the same as with sisters.
I can see why you would want a sister.
I also have three of them. But there’s no
mystery as to what my sisters are to me. I
see them all the time. I talk to them all the
time. One lives far away, but the two who
are here are permanent fixtures in my life.
In your life, too, because you see your aunts
frequently. You shop with them and try to
teach them TikTok dances.
I’ve told you, I’m sure, that I grew up
idolizing them. I followed them around,
tried on their clothes, snuck their makeup,
and watched their television shows. I was a
kid and they were teenagers, and I wanted
to be them.
I’ve elevated sisterhood because it’s
been a driving force in shaping my iden-
tity. But it’s possible I’ve shortchanged the

Oh Brother:
value of brothers.
I’ve assumed you just knew it. That it
was easily observable. But it occurs to me
that I need to answer the question: What’s

My Letter
a brother in this world?

A BROTHER CAN BE A COMPANION LIKE

NO OTHER. Uncle Tony is the brother clos-
est to me in age. The sibling closest to me in
age, for that matter. We were born in 1970
WHY MY DAUGHTER WILL COME TO APPRECIATE

D
and 1974, the last two in the long line. The

HER ANNOYING BROTHER SOMEDAY.

tailbone of the family. I was the baby, and
he was the one we joke was kind of forgot-
ten, because there are scant baby pictures of
DEAR GEORGIA, him. It’s as if he just emerged a pasty-legged
You asked the other day, exasperated, “What is the point of brothers? Why can’t I have a 8-year-old with a mop of curly hair.
sister?” I don’t remember exactly what your brother was doing to exasperate you. Twelve- To say we were best buddies would be
year-old sisters are an easy mark for 14-year-old brothers to annoy. He was probably an overstatement. It’s more like the rest of
telling bad jokes or offering you terrible advice. Or maybe he was just being that shade of the family was busy. The oldest was already
irritating he’s perfected. married. Everyone had jobs or went to a
A brother is an interesting thing. I should know, I grew up with three of them. Four of magical place called High School.
them, if you count the brother-in-law I’ve known since I was just a little bit younger than But Tony and I had bikes, and we had
you. Five if you count the one I’ve known since I was just a little bit older than you. the shows The Greatest American Hero and
These uncles of yours, who float around at family gatherings, sometimes getting ban- Super Friends. We spent entire summer af-
ished to the corner of the yard with their smelly cigars, must seem like old men to you, ternoons trying to C O N T I N U E D O N PAG E 3 3

2 8 C I N C I N N AT I M A G A Z I N E . C O M J U LY 2 0 2 3 ILLUSTR ATIO N BY D O L A SU N

activate our Wonder Twins powers.
With my sisters, it was always about
wanting to be a grown-up so I could be
like them. But with Tony, it was play and
imagination and the sense that there was
nowhere else I needed to be. Years later,
when I was in my thirties and took your
grandparents to England, Tony decided to
fly to Belgium for a few days (he worked
for the airlines) and meet us in London for
part of the trip.
I’ve never been happier to see anyone
than I was the morning his Eurostar train
pulled into the station. My parents had
been driving me crazy. I’m sure you can
relate.
I needed a partner in this endeavor of
escorting elderly people around a foreign
country. And there he was, my Wonder
Twin. Things aren’t obvious with broth-
ers, but then they show up and you feel like
everything is going to be all right.
A BROTHER IS THE PERFECT PERSON TO AR-
GUE WITH. I vaguely remember when your
Uncle Herb, the oldest in the family—Old
YOU NEVER KNOW WHEN A BROTHER CAN MAKE YOU SEE THE
WORLD A LITTLE DIFFERENTLY. AND YOU CAN ALWAYS COUNT
ON THEM FOR FART JOKES, NO MATTER HOW OLD THEY ARE.
Boy, as you’ve heard us call him—got mar-
ried in 1981.
That he was gone from our house
doesn’t really register with me, because I
don’t remember him there. Where did he
even sleep in our tiny ranch house?
Uncle Herb and I have very little shared
childhood. I know that’s not something
you can relate to, because you and your
brother are just two years apart. But there’s
something I want you to remember: Some-
day, you and your brother will be adults.
And you’ll have to get to know each other
as adults, and don’t underestimate how fun
that can be.
I got to know Herb through our regular
Brother Sister Calls. I think these phone
calls started when I was in college, though
I remember them more as the stuff of my
twenties.
We would catch up for five minutes and
then argue politics for two hours. What is
more perfect than a good-natured, intel-
ligent political argument just when you’re
at the height of developing your ideology?
As a young leftist, I learned things from
those arguments. Sure, I came away from
each conversation thinking something
along the lines of, Herb could not even be
more wrong! But that time we spent listen-
ing to each other matters.
It helps that your Uncle Old Boy doesn’t
take himself too seriously and would rather
just make a fart joke. You can always count
on him for fart jokes, no matter how old he
is. Maybe that’s actually what I’m trying
to say.
A BROTHER-IN-LAW CAN ADD THE THINGS
YOU DIDN’T KNOW THE FAMILY NEEDED.
What’s the difference between a brother
and a brother-in-law when the history is
nearly as long? The answer, I’m pretty sure,
is that there’s no difference.
I was 9 when your Aunt Laura met Un-
cle Mike. His extrovert energy was a whole
new thing. He was the guy who would go
somewhere and know everyone by the time
he left; he’s still like that. It’s great to have
a brother like that.
Uncle Mike’s own family was very dif-
ferent from ours. He had a teenage mother,
a father he never knew, grandparents who
practically raised him, and a stepfather he
worked hard to build a relationship with.
He’s lost them all now. But we’ve claimed
him. Who do you think Uncle Herb smokes
cigars with?
It was different with your Uncle Manu-
el. I was in college when Aunt Nancy mar-
ried him. Remember, in first grade, when
you did the project on Costa Rica and in-
terviewed him? You learned that he came
to the U.S. for college and decided to stay
J U LY 2 0 2 3 C I N C I N N AT I M A G A Z I N E . C O M 3 3
WELCOME TO MIDDLEHOOD
because he saw the opportunity here.
I learned something that day, too. It
may have been the first time I thought
about what it would be like to grow up in
a place with banana trees and the comfort
of your family and then move to a place
where you didn’t know anyone and had to
speak a language not your own and make
a life.
What a gift he’s been to this family so
rooted on the hillsides around the Ohio
River. You just never know when a brother
can make you see the world a little differ-
ently.
A BROTHER CAN DIE WITHOUT YOU EVER
UNDERSTANDING THEM. OK, my girl, I can’t
avoid talking about the absent brother any
longer. You never knew your Uncle Paul. He
died the year before you were born, when
he was 49, which is the age I’m about to
turn.
I’ve learned so much about substance
use disorder in the years since he died. I had
all the wrong language back then: addict,
failure, loser. Listen, Paul was a difficult
person from the start, nearly impossible
to live with. But if he were a teenager now,
he’d have a diagnosis and a therapist and
Zoloft and a 504 plan.
Still, you can’t superimpose where we
are now with how things used to be. That’s
the worst part of it all. We know so much
better now. Your generation, if you can
make it through this mental health crisis,
will be miles ahead in empathy.
Make sure to extend that empathy to
the people you love, especially to your
brother. Nothing works without empathy.
I wish I would have understood that earlier
in my life.
I’ve given you this long, complicat-
ed answer to the question about what a
brother is. But for you, the answer is a bit
simpler: Your brother is your only partner
in this project of being our kid. I predict
that will be important someday, even if
you can’t see the shape of that relation-
ship now.
Hold the space for it to form and safe-
guard it with your shared memories. And,
of course, with fart jokes.
Love,
Mom