{"id":7645,"date":"2023-12-18T20:58:38","date_gmt":"2023-12-19T04:58:38","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/caitlinhicks.com\/wordpress\/?p=7645"},"modified":"2024-07-20T15:52:45","modified_gmt":"2024-07-20T22:52:45","slug":"the-joy-of-andrew-13","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/caitlinhicks.com\/wordpress\/the-joy-of-andrew-13\/","title":{"rendered":"The joy of Andrew, #13"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a><\/h2>\n

Subject: belated birthday greetings<\/em><\/h2>\n

Sent: 15\/9\/20 12:43 AM
\nReceived: 14\/9\/00 10:05 PM
\nFrom: Andrew Hicks<\/em><\/p>\n

Dear,<\/p>\n

How are you? HAPPY BIRTHDAY late. I am sorry I did not
\ncommunicate with you concerning the anniversary celebration of your birth.
\nAnyway, I hope you had a most excellent and triumphant day. How many
\nEarth years are you, exactly? Isn’t it amazing that all of us have lived as
\nlong as we have? Have a wonderful day, even though today is your
\nUn-Birthday.
\nLove your Bro,
\nRew<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Every once in a while<\/h2>\n

I got an email with the name ANDREW in the subject line. And I knew it was urgent. He was admitted to hospital because he was not eating or drinking. Losing weight. Incoherent speech. MRI\u2019s and CT\u2019s revealing nothing. His balance, reflexes, and motor function have been declining over the years; It\u2019s not ALS. It\u2019s not Parkinsons. It\u2019s not any kind of disease with a name, but he had it in spades.<\/p>\n

I was never good at math, but it seemed that numbers had been falling out of the sky.<\/p>\n

My \u2018little\u2019 brother Andrew.
\nOf 14, he\u2019s the second-to-the-youngest
\nOf 8 brothers, he\u2019s the second-to-the-last
\nHe\u2019s 7 children younger than me.
\nHe was one of the 6 Little Kids.
\nThere were fourteen of us, and I was Number 6.
\nAndrew was Number 13.<\/p>\n

He was born early in April, the fourth month of the year.<\/p>\n

When Thomas (#14) came along, demoting Andrew to the used-to-be-the-cutest baby in the family, Andrew was not quite 2 years old. It was during that short time in his life and mine that I changed his diapers, dressed him and helped teach him how to walk. Every morning, as the family ate their Cheerios or their Cream of Wheat and my parents drank their morning coffee, Andrew grabbed a hold of two of my fingers to balance him as he tried to explore the world standing up.<\/p>\n

What I loved about this was Andrew’s joy. He was always standing, holding onto the side of his crib, waiting for me to come in and rescue him. And when I peeked around the door and stuck my face into the room, he broke into an infectious smile, giggling and shrieking and running around the crib, as I chased him.<\/p>\n

Below: Mother and I holding up the two youngest in their pjamas in a group hug.\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>\"\"<\/a>\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

In 2nd<\/sup> grade Andrew lined up for his First Communion, a small person in slacks and a white shirt, hands folded and marching in formation. We were used to lining up; when there are lots of kids, that\u2019s what you do, you line up. If you ever wondered where we were, it would be safe to say that we were probably lining up for something. For inspection. For a spanking. For the rosary. \u00a0For the bathroom.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Even as each of us was just another child in a big group, part of a line, Andrew always saw me. And I saw him. I was always glad to see him. We liked each other.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

That’s a photo of our Mother when she was being paraded around with Andrew and Thomas as Ventura’s Mother of the Year. After giving birth to and raising fourteen children, it was ‘about time’ she was honored for her contribution to the human race, and the next generation. It was very soon after that photo was taken, she became ill and died. Look how young Thomas and Andrew were, to lose their Mother.<\/p>\n

Sometime after we lost our mother, Andrew got a tumor in his skull. To make sure the tumor didn\u2019t come back, they radiated him every week, according to a schedule. He kept getting zapped until someone was satisfied that he\u2019d had enough. \u00a0Radiation with an unfathomable half-life.<\/p>\n

Finally. They stopped.\u00a0 Andrew had to re-learn to walk, talk and read all over again. But he was still alive, whereas our Mother was not. It looked like things would get back to \u2018normal\u2019. But when \u2018normal\u2019 is truly interrupted, \u2018going back\u2019 is a fantasy. There is always something not quite right.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a> \"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

By the time Andrew was 31, his dreams, \u201cto be a jet pilot\u201d were replaced by his reality as a checker at Vons, the local grocery. In spite of his own sense of failure when comparing himself to his other brothers (one became a doctor; 3 became bankers), at VONS, Andrew was known for being the friendliest man in town.<\/p>\n

When Andrew\u2019s two boys were small, I happened to visit the home he shared with his wife and kids. And it was really messy; clothes everywhere, books, pillows, dishes, everything all mixed together in one visual chaotic, sloppy scene. Like the house we grew up in together. And in this mess, somewhere, was their pet rat, who did not live in a cage. It reminded me of our haphazard, shared childhood, full of strewn laundry and dirty dishes and the delight of miscellaneous pets.<\/p>\n

\u00a0After his divorce<\/h2>\n

Hello All, I hope you are all doing splendidly! This is to be my last message for a while, as I am signing off from the internet. I was not too impressed with all it had to offer. If you want to write or call me feel free to do so.<\/em>
\nI hope you all have a splendid existence and work towards God.
\nLater on,
\nDudes and Dudettes
\nLove to you, Andrew<\/em><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Andrew lived with my father in the family home in Ventura. He used to turn up the music to the max which annoyed my step-mother. Between Mitch Miller, Strauss Waltzes, The Andrew\u2019s Sisters, and The Beatles, Andrew and Daddy re-played so much old music at top notch, it gave a new meaning to the word \u2018deaf\u2019.<\/p>\n

Once my father died<\/h2>\n

Andrew inherited a 1\/12th<\/sup> share of the proceeds from the sale of the family home. More than a million dollars in payouts and two children were disinherited. I was one of them. It was my punishment for speaking out against the cultural family narrative. It\u2019s bad enough being disobedient; what\u2019s worse is speaking out about it, especially when surrounded by the converted. But I digress.<\/p>\n

With his inheritance, Andrew traveled and produced his own original songs. He shared his albums with me, always thinking he was going to someday make it big. There was one song I really loved, Happy to Be<\/em>. Here\u2019s the refrain:<\/p>\n

Once I wasn\u2019t
\nthen I was
\nnow I am
\nand I\u2019m just happy to be.\u201d<\/p>\n

But Andrew\u2019s limp became more pronounced; his hands trembled; he blurted inappropriately and randomly, as if he had Turret\u2019s Syndrome.<\/p>\n

At the time, a woman happened to go through his grocery till wearing the flag of Japan on her t-shirt.\u00a0 \u201cThe Japs bombed Pearl Harbor and started World War Two,\u201d Andrew shouted at her. And for that, he got fired.Even the union wouldn’t go to bat for him on that one. So his life changed again.<\/p>\n

Before he couldn\u2019t walk anymore.<\/h2>\n

Before he gave up the internet altogether, Rew spent a good chunk of his time finding, reading and forwarding emails. \u00a0Here\u2019s one, at least as worthy as a good cat video.<\/p>\n

The riddle to end all riddles.<\/em><\/p>\n

It’s just one word<\/em><\/p>\n

Only 5% of Stanford University grads figured it out<\/em><\/p>\n

Can you answer all seven of the following with the same word?<\/em><\/p>\n

The word has 7 letters<\/em>
\nPreceded God<\/em>
\nGreater than God<\/em>
\nMore Evil than the devil<\/em>
\nAll poor people have it<\/em>
\nWealthy people need it<\/em>
\nIf you eat it, you die<\/em><\/p>\n

Did you figure it out? scroll scroll scroll down down down <\/em><\/p>\n

Try hard before looking at the answers<\/em><\/p>\n

did you get it yet?<\/em><\/p>\n

Give up?<\/em><\/p>\n

Brace yourself for the answer:<\/em><\/p>\n

The answer is:<\/em><\/p>\n

Nothing!<\/em><\/p>\n

Nothing has 7 letters<\/em>
\nNothing preceded God<\/em>
\nNothing is greater than God<\/em>
\nNothing is more Evil than the devil<\/em>
\nAll poor people have nothing<\/em>
\nWealthy people need nothing<\/em>
\nIf you eat nothing, you will die<\/em><\/p>\n

Send this brain-teaser to your smart friends and see if they can answer it.<\/em><\/p>\n

We call him Rew.<\/h2>\n

Because I live in another country far away, Rew and I, we had this technological relationship which consisted of me imagining what he looks like and how much space he takes up during the time his voice is in my ear once a month on the receiver of the telephone. He’d taken it on to call everyone in the family every thirty days or so, once our eldest brother Gregory died.\u00a0 I used to have that kind of relationship with Gregory before he died, punctuated by the odd visit so I could update my imaginings.<\/p>\n

This essay with photos is a tribute to my brother, Andrew. Of course it can’t be comprehensive, a person is so elusive in their complexity. But I’m sharing my recent journey with him in an effort to remember him and to honour his presence in the lives of our huge family. I also honor my mother and my father who brought him, their thirteenth child, into the world.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n\n\n\n
<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Subject: belated birthday greetings Sent: 15\/9\/20 12:43 AM Received: 14\/9\/00 10:05 PM From: Andrew Hicks Dear, How are you? HAPPY BIRTHDAY late. I am sorry I did not communicate with you concerning the anniversary celebration of your birth. Anyway, I hope you had a most excellent and triumphant day. How many Earth years are you, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":7646,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[8,6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-7645","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-pondering-the-brilliance-of-existence","category-non-fiction"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/caitlinhicks.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7645","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/caitlinhicks.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/caitlinhicks.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/caitlinhicks.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/caitlinhicks.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=7645"}],"version-history":[{"count":10,"href":"https:\/\/caitlinhicks.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7645\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7890,"href":"https:\/\/caitlinhicks.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7645\/revisions\/7890"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/caitlinhicks.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/7646"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/caitlinhicks.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=7645"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/caitlinhicks.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=7645"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/caitlinhicks.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=7645"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}