In the Landes family, you had two names. Of course the name you were given at birth, but more important the one you acquired over your childhood. Not for nothing, but my brother started it. In my early tween years and for reasons that cannot be confirmed, Mark decided I should be called Eugene. Sweetheart, that brother of mine. You might imagine that my mother would support me and forbid the nickname, so not her style. Instead she just assigned my brother with a name. He was called Opie, yes, THE Opie from Mayberry. And so we were Opie and Eugene for quite a long time.
Somewhere along the way, Opie became Odie and that stuck. Sadly so did Eugene. Raised with a sense of humor and a sense of justice, my brother and I soon found that Homer fit our mother very well. Of course every Homer needs an Elmer and so it was complete.
I’m fairly certain every note, card, gift, or sign was to or from one of the misfits: Homer, Elmer, Odie or Eugene. As I recall it, the names were never used to humiliate, always as a symbol of family, closeness, affection. Although my brother was only 2 years older than me, no one at school ever heard about it and called me Eugene. I’m sure there were many chances for it to be turned against one of us, it never was.
It’s been more than 10 years since I was called Eugene or Mark, Odie. I don’t remember making a decision not to use the names, but I assume that once our Homer was gone, it was a little bittersweet. Certainly, in a strange way, we lost Elmer on that day in September, too.
It occurs to me now, at 40Something , that I never lost Odie though. And I could have. Many siblings grow apart without moms at the center of the family. Sometimes because they were never really close, sometimes because it’s too painful, sometimes just because life takes over and soccer games and dance recitals take up the spare time that might be used for visits and phone calls. Sometimes family drama divides those that should stay together. And we have had all of those excusable events, kids, drama, distance. But still we are connected. Still we are permanent. It helps that he married a girl that I fell in love with, too. Kind, sincere, accepting, intelligent women are easy to love like a sister, especially as a perfect complement to my brother. It helps, too, that he has introduced me to 2 children that I adore and that he has kept me relevant in their lives.
Beyond that, he’s still Odie. Still funny, still smart, still inspirational, still strong. Brothers, the good ones anyway, are lifelong protectors, and he’s certainly still that. I’m sure he still thinks I’m nerdy Eugene, but I know he’d never allow others to see me in that way. From my perspective, he is an overachiever: good job, good marriage, good kids. But those are judgments I make from an outside view.
He is still my brother, though, and so his performance there is solely for me to appraise. In that appraisal he is as nearly perfect as possible. He has promised me we will always be family and I trust him with that promise as if my life depends on it. He has proven he can be trusted. He has been there when I needed him so often, that I’m now convinced that if he didn’t come running, it was only because he believed enough in me that I could handle it alone.
So my Ode to Odie is a thank you of sorts. And a message to my sons. You have brothers, it’s your responsibility to keep them, to make them relevant. As your mother, I’ve given you the best gift I ever could in giving you a family of Odies that are permanent, strong, and forgiving. Don’t take them for granted, at 40Something they will be higher on your list of what matters most.
Lessons from 40 Something 