My eldest brother just reached his 40th birthday, and as some sort of demi-tribute, I decide to share 4 of my greatest stories about him, perhaps one per decade. (I was going to do 40, but which one of my seven readers would really stick around to read them all? I don’t think Dennis himself would.) So here are a few things that have always made me smile about my big brother.
The Western Fair comes through London each September, and every year the family would venture through the gates into a carnie-coated world of rides and taiwanese toys. I couldn’t have been more than 8 or 9, and the park was quiet. Dennis wanted one last ride on the pirate ship, so my Mom and I watched as he climbed on, the only person on the whole ship, and I watched it slowly swing back and forth, and then it escalated in speed and height. I began to panic as Dennis raised his hands in the air (in excitement), and I began to scream and cry, begging them to stop the ride. My Mom leaned over explaining it was alright, but I just yelled “He’s going to fall out! STOP IT! STOP THE SHIP!” Three minutes later Dennis walked off in tact, and I grabbed his hand with tears streaking down my face. “SHIPS ARE SCARY! Don’t do that ever again!” Little did I know I would spend 7 years of my life on a ship. I still find them scary.
I was lucky enough to have scoliosis, (I’m an optimist) so post-surgery, there was a brief moment of me being in the hospital that required family assistance for mundane tasks like walking, rolling over and eating. While both of my brothers spent countless hours by my side as they prepared for University exams, there was one wonderful moment where Dennis decided to aid me in feeding myself. On the menu? Jello, a roll, and fetuccini alfredo. I have enough trouble feeding this to myself, but Dennis insisted on lending a hand to make me more comfortable. So, as I watched him twirl the worlds longest, sauce coated noodle in North America around the hospital issued fork, I anticipated trouble. There was sauce everywhere, and I think it was the first time I had a good stitch-busting laugh since the surgery. The fetuccini was disgusting, but the company and the moment was hilarious.
My brothers & I grew up with a huge backyard, and it functioned as a soccer pitch, wrestling ring, and a baseball diamond among other things. One balmy afternoon, I typically wanted to get involved in what my brothers were doing, so I offered to pitch to them as they ran around the pear and apple trees that served as bases. Dennis was up, and I wound up and threw the least girly lob I could muster. It must have been a perfect pitch, because life went into slow motion, and he drilled it directly back at me and into my chest. I can still see his face before he ran up to me. I just fell to the ground trying to catch a breath, and he grabbed onto me and kept saying “You’re okay! You’re okay! Just cry and then I’ll know you’re okay!” I finally caught a breath and looked at him and said “I’m okay. I’m not going to cry, and you’re out.”
More recently, I’ve been able to witness Dennis in the role of father to my gorgeous niece Émilie, and their new son Liam. It’s not just one instance, but with Dennis being quite athletic, I’ve always viewed him as a great protector. (Just be warned, he has his black belt in Karate, and I’m not afraid to use it.) A few years ago we were participating in the CIBC Walk For The Cure, and Émilie was in her stroller singing and bopping along through the walk. At one point she leaned forward and out of nowhere Dennis flew in front and scooped her up inches from her hitting the pavement. I think it’s a parental intuition thing, but he just jumped in and kept on going without skipping a beat. He has also turned Émilie into a bilingual genius, (with the help of Christi-Anne of course) and watching Dennis teach his high school kids almost exclusively in French is jaw-dropping. I forget how talented he is when it comes to languages, and being able to see it in action is very cool.
So I’m lucky that I’ve always thought of him as a very cool brother, but now I get to see him be an amazing Dad. He still can’t dance very well no matter how much I tried, (ask to see his sideways running man, yeesh!) and his fashion sense, well let’s just say his short sleeved dress shirts are questionable, but the effort he puts into being a good brother, husband and Dad are very apparent, and appreciated.
Happy Birthday, Honem! Bring on the fetuccini! XO
The Western Fair comes through London each September, and every year the family would venture through the gates into a carnie-coated world of rides and taiwanese toys. I couldn’t have been more than 8 or 9, and the park was quiet. Dennis wanted one last ride on the pirate ship, so my Mom and I watched as he climbed on, the only person on the whole ship, and I watched it slowly swing back and forth, and then it escalated in speed and height. I began to panic as Dennis raised his hands in the air (in excitement), and I began to scream and cry, begging them to stop the ride. My Mom leaned over explaining it was alright, but I just yelled “He’s going to fall out! STOP IT! STOP THE SHIP!” Three minutes later Dennis walked off in tact, and I grabbed his hand with tears streaking down my face. “SHIPS ARE SCARY! Don’t do that ever again!” Little did I know I would spend 7 years of my life on a ship. I still find them scary.
I was lucky enough to have scoliosis, (I’m an optimist) so post-surgery, there was a brief moment of me being in the hospital that required family assistance for mundane tasks like walking, rolling over and eating. While both of my brothers spent countless hours by my side as they prepared for University exams, there was one wonderful moment where Dennis decided to aid me in feeding myself. On the menu? Jello, a roll, and fetuccini alfredo. I have enough trouble feeding this to myself, but Dennis insisted on lending a hand to make me more comfortable. So, as I watched him twirl the worlds longest, sauce coated noodle in North America around the hospital issued fork, I anticipated trouble. There was sauce everywhere, and I think it was the first time I had a good stitch-busting laugh since the surgery. The fetuccini was disgusting, but the company and the moment was hilarious.
My brothers & I grew up with a huge backyard, and it functioned as a soccer pitch, wrestling ring, and a baseball diamond among other things. One balmy afternoon, I typically wanted to get involved in what my brothers were doing, so I offered to pitch to them as they ran around the pear and apple trees that served as bases. Dennis was up, and I wound up and threw the least girly lob I could muster. It must have been a perfect pitch, because life went into slow motion, and he drilled it directly back at me and into my chest. I can still see his face before he ran up to me. I just fell to the ground trying to catch a breath, and he grabbed onto me and kept saying “You’re okay! You’re okay! Just cry and then I’ll know you’re okay!” I finally caught a breath and looked at him and said “I’m okay. I’m not going to cry, and you’re out.”
More recently, I’ve been able to witness Dennis in the role of father to my gorgeous niece Émilie, and their new son Liam. It’s not just one instance, but with Dennis being quite athletic, I’ve always viewed him as a great protector. (Just be warned, he has his black belt in Karate, and I’m not afraid to use it.) A few years ago we were participating in the CIBC Walk For The Cure, and Émilie was in her stroller singing and bopping along through the walk. At one point she leaned forward and out of nowhere Dennis flew in front and scooped her up inches from her hitting the pavement. I think it’s a parental intuition thing, but he just jumped in and kept on going without skipping a beat. He has also turned Émilie into a bilingual genius, (with the help of Christi-Anne of course) and watching Dennis teach his high school kids almost exclusively in French is jaw-dropping. I forget how talented he is when it comes to languages, and being able to see it in action is very cool.
So I’m lucky that I’ve always thought of him as a very cool brother, but now I get to see him be an amazing Dad. He still can’t dance very well no matter how much I tried, (ask to see his sideways running man, yeesh!) and his fashion sense, well let’s just say his short sleeved dress shirts are questionable, but the effort he puts into being a good brother, husband and Dad are very apparent, and appreciated.
Happy Birthday, Honem! Bring on the fetuccini! XO
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