Three weeks with my brother - Nicholas Sparks [47]
“No, I haven’t,” I’d answer. “But did you know that even before it became a national park in 1890, the land was actually given in trust to the state of California in 1864 by the U.S. Congress, and signed into law by Abraham Lincoln? You’d think that with the Civil War in full swing, he wouldn’t have had time for something like that, but he did. And in the end, the use of land trusts set the stage for Yellowstone to become the first official national park in 1872. And did you know that Yosemite Falls, which are the fifth tallest in the world at 2,450 feet, is actually made of three separate falls? Or . . .”
My friends’ eyes would glaze over as I went on and on.
Yep, that was me. Mr. Popularity.
My sister, too, was becoming her own person. Like me, she got along with her teachers, although her grades usually hovered around a C in nearly every class. Though my parents were both college graduates and viewed education as important—my mother had received her degree in elementary education, and my father was a professor—neither seemed concerned about my sister’s academic performance. They didn’t push her to work harder, nor did they help her with her studies, nor did they mind if she brought home poor grades, the reason yet again being, “She’s a girl.”
They did, however, enroll her in horseback riding lessons, thinking a skill like that would serve her well in the long run.
The more I excelled in school, the harder I tried to do even better, if only to stand out from my siblings. Somehow, I believed that my parents would then shower me with the attention I felt was given automatically to my brother and sister. If Micah got attention because he was the oldest and my sister got attention for being the only girl, I wanted recognition for something, anything. I yearned for moments when I could be the center of attention at the dinner table, but no matter what I did, it never seemed to be enough. While I never doubted that my parents loved me, I couldn’t help but think that had my mother been given Sophie’s choice, I would have been the one sacrificed to save the other two. It was a terrible thing to believe—and as a parent now, I know that attention isn’t the same as love—but the feeling wouldn’t go away. Even worse, I began to notice those moments with ever increasing acuity. In the fall, when it was time for new school clothes, I would get a couple of new items and Micah’s hand-me-downs; both Micah and Dana would receive far more than I did. And my mom, if she acknowledged my feelings at all, would simply shrug and say that “Micah’s clothes are new for you.” As I grew older, both my parents seemed oblivious to how a child like me would view their actions.
I’ll never forget one Christmas when we woke up to find three bikes under the tree. Christmas was far and away the most exciting day of the year for us, because we seldom got anything we wanted the rest of the time. We would count down the days and talk endlessly about what we wanted; that particular year, bikes were on the top of the list. Bikes meant freedom, bikes meant fun, and the ones we’d owned previously had become unusable through sheer wear and tear. When we crept out to the living room, the tree lights were glowing and we stared at our gifts with wonder.
Micah’s bike was new and shiny.
Dana’s bike was new and shiny.
My bike was . . . shiny.
For a moment, I’d thought it was new as well. But . . . then, ever so slowly, I began to recognize it, despite the new paint job. Like a bad dream, I realized that my parents had given me my own bike—albeit, a repaired one. Granted, it had cost money to repair, but still, it crushed me to think I was given a gift that I already owned, while Micah and Dana got new ones.
When it came to grades, our parents used to post our report cards on the refrigerator, and I couldn’t wait for my mom to get home so I could show her how well I’d done. When she saw my report card, she said that she was proud of me, but when I woke the following morning, I noticed that the report cards had been taken down and slipped