Aren’t baby pictures wonderful! (Only an insecure teenager could disdain them.) So often they show much of later, more obvious personality traits. This is a perfect example. I can just see Patsy’s sweet, albeit timid, soul in that baby pose.
Pamela Joan and Patricia Anne Brady – known to family as Penny and Patsy. We were roommates throughout our childhood. And we were also womb-mates; but, as you can see we were never identical. She was the red head; I was the brunette. She was shy; I was probably obnoxious. Still underneath all the external differences we are alike in many ways. Last year’s Miller Family Paper featured a snapshot of us unconsciously standing in an exact arms loosely folded position. Funny.
Back to childhood days – it’s so nice to have a playmate for every childhood memory. Patsy was better at play than I. She learned to ride a bike far sooner; I still can barely wobble on the smoothest of surfaces. You almost have to know how clumsy I am to appreciate how much I admired her agility and energy. She did lovely cartwheels all across the yard. Cousin Gene has a slide of her straight-as-an-arrow headstand…with all that beautiful red hair fanned out on the grass. [I did learn to do a walk-over, but – pride goes before you know what – in an effort to do just one more fell straight down mid stride and broke a collar bone.] Did I mention being clumsy? Anyway, Patsy never was.
DH thinks shyness can seem a curse to a child. I’m sure it’s painful, but it always seemed sweet to me, too. Patsy still has a quiet way about her that my children find restful. And perhaps it is goodness and generosity coupled with that calmness. And practical – I think my twin sister invented careful practicality. She’s a nurse and a superb one. One evening before surgery I looked up to see her standing in the hospital doorway. She’d driven six hours to cheer me up beforehand; to clean me up and show me how to get out of bed without hurting so much afterward. She took a leave of absence from her nursing and came to live with and care for our mother the last months of her life. Pat worked in oncology for years, so she knew better than we what Mom would face and how to make her days most comfortable. (After Mom’s passing, I discovered a frock hanging in the closet with a large circle missing from the skirt. Patsy had used the satin in that skirt to make a donut cushion for Mom. It could have been an heirloom – her maid-of honor dress from my wedding - but I’m glad she saw fit to use it more practically!)
Pat still nurses at a Hospice facility near Toledo. Her patients (including home-bound husband Greg) are so blessed to have her. Some would think working with terminally ill patients, as Patsy has done most of her career, a struggle. I think she looks at it as a gift to give…to make her patients’ last days as dignified, comfortable and well-cared for as possible. It was that same precious gift that she gave to our mother and for which we owe her an eternal debt of praise and gratitude.
There is a difference with twins. In many ways we grew up about as close as other siblings. Our adult lives have kept us largely separated, but there is a bond – some indefinable connection – that circumvents all outward distance. Do I love her more? Well, maybe. Yet love aside, she is that part that completes me as no other family member can. My dear treasure … that only a twin may know!
The glamour shot was taken on our 50th birthday. That was nearly 12 years ago, now; so we’ve changed a bit…not that glamour shots much resemble the shootee, anyway.
P.S. About the names...‘cause some of you will be curious. Mom wanted to call the twins Penny & Patsy. Dad didn’t care for Penelope (I probably wouldn’t have either as a child, but I think it a very sweet name now), so I became Pamela. I started spelling my nickname “Peni” about age 13 – I was laid up for three months after walking out in front of an auto and was a bit stir-crazy, ready to escape a bed-bound personality. Today I spell it both ways (Thelma Sue) and might be tempted to revert entirely to Mom’s P-e-n-n-y version were it not for a lovely little namesake, PeniJean. ;c) Some signs of adolescence stick around and prompt endless explanations.
Pamela Joan and Patricia Anne Brady – known to family as Penny and Patsy. We were roommates throughout our childhood. And we were also womb-mates; but, as you can see we were never identical. She was the red head; I was the brunette. She was shy; I was probably obnoxious. Still underneath all the external differences we are alike in many ways. Last year’s Miller Family Paper featured a snapshot of us unconsciously standing in an exact arms loosely folded position. Funny.
Back to childhood days – it’s so nice to have a playmate for every childhood memory. Patsy was better at play than I. She learned to ride a bike far sooner; I still can barely wobble on the smoothest of surfaces. You almost have to know how clumsy I am to appreciate how much I admired her agility and energy. She did lovely cartwheels all across the yard. Cousin Gene has a slide of her straight-as-an-arrow headstand…with all that beautiful red hair fanned out on the grass. [I did learn to do a walk-over, but – pride goes before you know what – in an effort to do just one more fell straight down mid stride and broke a collar bone.] Did I mention being clumsy? Anyway, Patsy never was.
DH thinks shyness can seem a curse to a child. I’m sure it’s painful, but it always seemed sweet to me, too. Patsy still has a quiet way about her that my children find restful. And perhaps it is goodness and generosity coupled with that calmness. And practical – I think my twin sister invented careful practicality. She’s a nurse and a superb one. One evening before surgery I looked up to see her standing in the hospital doorway. She’d driven six hours to cheer me up beforehand; to clean me up and show me how to get out of bed without hurting so much afterward. She took a leave of absence from her nursing and came to live with and care for our mother the last months of her life. Pat worked in oncology for years, so she knew better than we what Mom would face and how to make her days most comfortable. (After Mom’s passing, I discovered a frock hanging in the closet with a large circle missing from the skirt. Patsy had used the satin in that skirt to make a donut cushion for Mom. It could have been an heirloom – her maid-of honor dress from my wedding - but I’m glad she saw fit to use it more practically!)
Pat still nurses at a Hospice facility near Toledo. Her patients (including home-bound husband Greg) are so blessed to have her. Some would think working with terminally ill patients, as Patsy has done most of her career, a struggle. I think she looks at it as a gift to give…to make her patients’ last days as dignified, comfortable and well-cared for as possible. It was that same precious gift that she gave to our mother and for which we owe her an eternal debt of praise and gratitude.
There is a difference with twins. In many ways we grew up about as close as other siblings. Our adult lives have kept us largely separated, but there is a bond – some indefinable connection – that circumvents all outward distance. Do I love her more? Well, maybe. Yet love aside, she is that part that completes me as no other family member can. My dear treasure … that only a twin may know!
The glamour shot was taken on our 50th birthday. That was nearly 12 years ago, now; so we’ve changed a bit…not that glamour shots much resemble the shootee, anyway.
P.S. About the names...‘cause some of you will be curious. Mom wanted to call the twins Penny & Patsy. Dad didn’t care for Penelope (I probably wouldn’t have either as a child, but I think it a very sweet name now), so I became Pamela. I started spelling my nickname “Peni” about age 13 – I was laid up for three months after walking out in front of an auto and was a bit stir-crazy, ready to escape a bed-bound personality. Today I spell it both ways (Thelma Sue) and might be tempted to revert entirely to Mom’s P-e-n-n-y version were it not for a lovely little namesake, PeniJean. ;c) Some signs of adolescence stick around and prompt endless explanations.
2 comments:
A really lovely tribute, Mom. Maybe Aunt Patsy got all the graceful parts of your genes. Love you! Nina
What a couple of lovelies. One would like to think that perhaps they maybe inherited some of their beauty from beauty from older ones in the family--hmmmmm. Andy and I like to call Pat, "Doctor Pat" because she usually knows about what is wrong when we complain. You always pick me up when my spirits are down. Thanks to the two of you for being such wonderful sisters.
Post a Comment