My Baby Brother turns Fifty

     My relationships with all my siblings have had their ups and downs. Many of those down times had to do with youth and distance. But as we have gotten older, we have seen the value each of us have as individuals, and how important we each are to our family as a whole.
     I have read articles and books that talk about family dynamics from a scientific perspective. There seems to be roles we all have in the family structure. And,to some degree, we portray the roles expected of us.  The youngest of us four 'children' is Glen Todd. He was a big bruiser as a young boy, and he still imposes a big bruiser image as an adult. It is now 50 years since Glen Todd  first graced the face of the earth. Time has marched forward whether any of us were ready for the march or not. Glen's assigned role, being the youngest in the family, has been , you guessed it, The Baby.
    To most adults, especially smart ones, being called 'a baby' or 'the baby' is seen negatively. It is being titled as " The Entitled". And nobody wants to be seen from that light. The baby needs. The baby gets. That is how the role is seen in a family setting from a scientific perspective. And although I enjoy trying to convince myself that I am a rational, sentient and totally capable of scientific thought, I just don't like the baby title for my big bruiser of a little brother. Remember now, my mantra is 'the same , but different', so you shouldn't be surprised that I am looking for the exception to this negative stereotype.

Glen at his home away from home.The cabin at French Creek.

     Glen was always the strongest and the largest of the brothers. Although he was never fast, he had great arm. He had a fastball and a wicked curve that would either make you tremble in fear or cheer with glee.

 ( Depending whose team you were on!) Not many batters were willing to dig into the batters box when Glen Todd was on the mound. If they did it once, they knew not to do it a second time. He had the appearance on the mound of an angry bull who was hungry. And you were between him and the next plate of food. He was going to get you out of the way, that was for sure. He could have continued his hi-jinks on the mound and possibly on the gridiron as well, but a terrible trampoline accident in school made that difficult, if not impossible. But try playing him now in a game of catch or horseshoes or bowling. The ball still flies in freakish ways from his big bruiser man hands.