Family Tradition

A Family Tradition

A glimmer of light hit the blade. No one saw it, but me..

*****

My older brother was good at everything. Whatever Alex set his mind to do, he did it better than most everyone else, especially Jason, my twin brother. Jason and I were three years younger than Alex, which put us at a considerable disadvantage. I admit that since I'm a girl, I had it easier. The burden fell to Jason. Alex made top grades in school and was a natural athlete; everything came easy for him. With his wavy black hair and that leading-man look, all the kids idolized Alex.

When we were growing up Dad never missed one of Alex's baseball games. Dad was all the time saying how it wouldn't surprise him if Alex turned out to be as good as Pete Rose. Jason's experience was different. The coach only played him when the team was winning or losing by a large amount. Usually, I was the only one from our family to attend Jason's games.

We lived in a rural community on a wide tributary off the Ohio River; our ancestors had fished these waters for generations. As far as Dad was concerned, baseball even took a backseat to cat fishing. It was a family affair. All of us, including Mom and our dog Muddy, spent more time on the water each summer than we did at home. As long as I can remember, well, as soon as Jason and I were old enough to bait our own hooks, we had a .tradition. Whichever one of us kids caught the biggest catfish earned bragging rights, and a silver dollar to boot! Alex always won, of course. I thought he was the luckiest person in the world. The thing is, Alex didn't really enjoy fishing--he liked pleasing Dad. But fishing meant more to Jason than anything, except maybe his desire for our father's approval. I worried how this unfulfilled longing might affect my twin brother.

Alex attended Kent State University on a baseball scholarship. No one was more pleased than Dad. His modest income was stretched to the limit. Raising three children during the "trickle down" years wasn't easy. After the factory closed, Dad got a job delivering propane. It paid less, but we got by. Dad always liked saying, "The Johnson's can hold our heads high. We're the only ones around here with a professional baseball player in the family."

I remember the afternoon that Mom took the call. It was Saturday, right before summer vacation. A flock of buzzards landed in our Sycamore tree; Muddy was barking as if they were from outer space. Jason and I were enjoying WSAI on the radio, when Mom's face went pale.

"Sweet Jesus!" She cried. "Are you all right? What did they say? How in the world? Are you sure? Your father is due home anytime--"

Mom went completely bonkers. When I finally got the phone away from her, Alex explained that he broke his leg attempting to stretch a double into a triple--a severe compound fracture and several torn muscles and ligaments was what he received for the effort. His baseball career was over.

"Wasn't satisfied with a double," Jason said, "can ya believe it? Let's see how proud dad is now."

The comment shocked me. Luckily, Mom missed it. She was fussing about like a rowdy blue jay. "Please, see what's wrong with that dog." She huffed and tugged at her apron. "I have to get supper on. Your daddy is due any minute."

We went outside and I let Jason have it. "Are you out of your mind?"

"What?"

"What's wrong with you? How could you say something like that? And in front of Mom, too."

"Lay off, she didn't hear me. Shut up, Muddy! They're just buzzards."

"Alex is hurt," I said, trying to control my temper. "Everything will change. He'll probably lose his scholarship. Do you hear? Look at me!"

Jason's face grimaced. "If you only knew how I feel, Sally. I've played second string to Alex my whole life."

I touched Jason's shoulder. "I know what you've been through. I live here too remember. I wish things were different. I really do. You know how competitive Alex is. This could destroy him. Is that what you want?"

"I just wish Alex could feel the way I do. One time, that's all."

*****

Jason got his wish. Everything happened in mind-numbing slow motion that summer, like waiting for the preacher to say the last amen. Dad said some things that I figure he would like to take back. After that, he and Alex hardly talked to one another; you could see the pain in their eyes. Alex sat on the porch, day after day; even Muddy knew something was wrong. Regardless of Alex's need to please Dad, Alex refused to fish. Initially, he used his leg as an excuse. After the cast came off it got more difficult to justify not going to the creek.

One morning at breakfast, Dad pressed the issue. "Better get back into the swing of things," he said, passing Alex the biscuits. "Your brother's been catching fish like it's nobody's business. If you don't watch it, Jason will win that silver dollar this year." Jason's shoulders straightened. I'd never seen him so satisfied.

"I doubt that," Alex said. "Having a limp won't hinder my casting arm."

This sounded like the old Alex. Everyone seemed pleased, everyone but Jason. His shoulders dropped. I knew Jason figured that if Alex fished on the "big day", Alex would win like always. Jason saw his father's approval disappearing, like the stack of biscuits. I sympathized with my twin brother, with all my heart, but I also wanted Alex to get better. He was letting his appearance go; he was changing. This wasn't the confident, outgoing person that I grew up with. I missed being proud of my big brother. If it took him winning, so be it. I guess every family needs someone special to make them feel proud.


The summer was almost over and the "big day" arrived. As Dad and Jason loaded the flat boat, Mom and I made lemonade and plenty of peanut butter sandwiches. We were all holding our breath (everyone for their own reasons), wondering if Alex would make an appearance. He never showed. We fished the better part of the day without him. Jason landed some good-size catfish, although, there wasn't much conversation. Muddy even acted differently. This held no semblance whatsoever to our past "big days".

"We always fish 'til dark," Mom said. "Let's check on Alex. He loves fishing in the evening."

"I hate to say it," Dad said. "I've about given up on Alex. I've never done anything but praise that boy."

Jason and I glanced at one another. When we got close to home, Muddy jumped out of the boat and swam the rest of the way. This was a first for Muddy and it made Mom nervous. When we docked, Alex was sitting on the bank, with his gear, rubbing Muddy's wet belly. "Did you guys think it was gonna be that easy to beat me? Hurry up and do what ya need to do. The day is getting away from us. I got a whopper to catch."

It was serene and idyllic that evening as the sun went down. All the mind-numbing slow motion ended, like nothing had ever happened, like Alex was still a baseball star. The worry lines in Mom's face disappeared right before my eyes. The frogs croaked in sequence for our enjoyment, like a tribute. Dad was in the middle of one of his favorite fish stories, when Alex landed the whopper. It was a beauty! While Dad measured the best fish of the day, Muddy barked and went on like he was a pup again. I watched Mom fuss and make over Alex.

"It's almost time to call it," Dad hollered. "It's gettin' too dark. You kids got two more minutes--reel 'em in. It looks like we got ourselves a sure-fired winner. By God, I knew you could do it, Alex. I just knew it."

I laid my pole down and looked over at Jason. I was the closest one to him, blocking everybody's view. Not that it mattered--Mom and Dad were transfixed on Alex. Jason was on his knees, trying to land the biggest catfish I'd ever seen. He almost had it in the boat, when suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder. Alex moved passed me toward Jason. A glimmer of light hit the blade; it was then I saw the knife in Jason's hand. It happened so quickly I didn't have time to speak. I couldn't believe it. Jason cut his line and let the big fish go; then jumped up, turned, and threw his arms around Alex.

"Let's take a look at that whopper," Jason said. "Big brother, you're still the best fisherman in the Ohio Valley. That's for sure, limp and all. You're a natural."


I don't believe Alex saw what happened that night. It was never mentioned. Although, that September when Pete Rose broke Ty Cobb's record, Alex gave all his silver dollars to Jason.

The End

(1556 words)