Blog Rewrite
Little Sister deserves a medal. She came to help take care of Winky, who just had her second knee replacement. Once Winky gets back on her feet, she’ll be a few inches taller—or at least that’s the running joke. Caring for a temporarily disabled Winky is no small task, and Little Sister has stepped right into the role. Of course, she also has no hesitation pointing out Kadizzle’s flaws along the way. Probably for the best—we all need the occasional tune-up.
One of her passions is piecing together family history. With nine kids in the family, every story has at least nine versions. Age brings reflection, and it’s something we’ve all been doing lately—looking back at the long climb to where we are now. Our oldest brother, 84, is doing remarkably well considering the rough-and-tumble life he lived. Offspring are plentiful, and watching the next generation sprout has been rewarding—no duds yet.
Growing up in a big family was an education all its own. Social skills, survival instincts, and yes, a few bad habits were picked up early. Self-reliance was essential. Out of the nine, only five of us remain. There’s no predictable order to who gets called to the next dimension, but somehow the two oldest are still purring along.
No offense to those without children or siblings, but it’s a very different planet you live on. In this moment, Little Sister has been nothing short of a savior. Sometimes Kadizzle can’t help but wonder, “What in the hell were our parents thinking?” But that was the world we were born into—post–World War II, when big families were the norm. In our neighborhood, having four to nine kids wasn’t unusual. Kids roamed free, no cell phones, no computers—just the wild and the world. And somehow, we survived.
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