The Third Wave_ A Volunteer Story - Alison Thompson [8]
My brothers teased me daily. They would pin me down and dribble saliva from their mouths, then suck it back in at the very last second, just before it was about to drop onto my face. Geoffrey and Stephen solved all their problems through humor, and I adored them for it.
When I was ten years old, my brother Stephen talked me into doubling up with him on his bike. We came to a humongous, steep hill and he raced down it at full speed, with me screaming behind him on the seat. I was yelling my head off for him to stop so that I could get off. He just laughed and went faster, which infuriated me. I told him that if he didn’t stop, I would jump off the bike. He thought I wouldn’t do it, and continued to charge downhill at full throttle. So I jumped off the bike and rolled down the tar road, scraping off layers of my skin along the way. There was a lot of blood, but I had showed him how serious (and stupid!) I really was.
Once, my brothers formed a Raiders of the Lost Ark Adventure Club. To become a member, you had to watch the movie twenty-three times, swallow spiders, and jump off forty-foot waterfalls, just like Indiana Jones. I tried several times to join the club, but whenever I met the requirements, they added new ones.
I was an athletic kid, but when it came to adventure, I never could bring myself to take quite the outrageous chances that my brothers took. I had silly fears that always got in the way. I’d jump into bed at night as quickly as possible before the boogie monster living under it could grab me. I’d tuck my hair into my pajamas so that a pair of invisible hands with scissors couldn’t reach up to snip off my ponytails.
Geoffrey and Stephen were good-looking guys, and as we grew older, the girls went crazy for them. They had that sort of James Bond confidence that could conquer the world. As teenagers, they went on camping and hitchhiking adventures all over Australia. I admired everything about them.
My brothers also were highly competitive and intelligent, and enjoyed using polysyllabic words to outsmart each other. When they couldn’t think of any more impressive words, they would make them up. This kept us all in hysterics at dinnertime, the laughter accompanied by kicks under the dining room table.
My sister, Lyndall, had a very different approach to life from the rest of us kids. She was ten years older than me and loved Alice Cooper and had boyfriends with Harley-Davidsons. She was a naughty preacher’s daughter and had a wild, passionate excitement for life. In her younger years, she rejected my parents’ doctrine. Even though I didn’t always agree with her views, I admired her for her bravery and independence. My parents were irate when she got into trouble with the law for growing large amounts of marijuana.
My father was an immensely talented preacher who would cast quiet spells on his congregation. He would preach in a simple, childlike way, telling exciting stories of the great battles of David and Goliath and of Daniel in the lion’s den. He raised his voice during the scary parts and spoke so gently during the suspenseful moments that everyone would have to lean forward in their chairs, eager to hear what was coming next. He would then shout out loud again, and people would almost fall out of their seats. I think he would have made a great actor. In some ways, he already was one.
My father was an honest man who never drank or gambled. He didn’t allow us to buy raffle tickets or play soccer on Sundays, but he had the greatest sense of humor and was a terrific athlete. We always won the three-legged race at church picnics.
Yet while everyone adored him and crowded around him after church, I was always a little scared of him. He was a strict, God-fearing man with high blood pressure and a quick temper. His