December 24, 2006

• Juje the Savior is Born!

  15 years ago, Anthony and I were opening our Christmas stockings when our brother Julian, squished within our mom’s protruding belly, heard the commotion and wanted in on the action. Anthony was sticky with spit from a fruity candy cane and I was savoring my millionth Andies mint chocolate of the morning when mom clapped her hands and announced: “Okay. Let’s get showered up. I’m going to have a baby today.”

  She was so calm that I wasn’t sure what to think. But I wanted to do a better job of welcoming my second brother in to the world than I did my first. So I dressed in my favorite outfit, a hot pink maternity sweatshirt with giant black dots that I got from a garage sale, worn as a dress over black leggings. I crimped the ends of my hair and gelled my bangs back. Surely my fetus brother, roaring to get out, appreciated this effort.

  If I remember correctly, once we were showered up, Anthony and I were allowed to take one present with us to the neighbors place, where we waited until our Uncle John picked us up to take us to Grandma Pacella’s house to join the rest of the family for Christmas. I’m a little fuzzy on that though.

  I do remember being at Grandma’s and leaving to go to the hospital to see mom and Julian. Anthony was too little, I think, or had a cough or something–I don’t know for sure, but I don’t think he was allowed to come. Or maybe he just wasn’t allowed in the room. I only remember getting to hold my new brother. He was a dark haired, warm little bundle. I loved him instantly.

  When mom and Julian came home from the hospital, he was put in a little brown cradle set up in mom and Tony’s room. Anthony and I peeked in at him, squirming around and squinting at us curiously. He was a calm little bean. I remember Anthony looking at our new brother; his long lashed little boy eyes wide with wonder, his stubby little boy legs running in place with goofy excitement.

  I remember cuddling baby Julian while I read in my bedroom. There is a picture of us in one of my mom’s albums, where the two of us have fallen asleep that way, my cheek on his fuzzy little head.

  When Julian was a toddler he had a stuffed animal dog called Doggy, pronounced “Goggy.” Julian liked the taste of the leather paws on Goggy, so he sucked on the dog’s legs relentlessly until the toy carried the reeked of rancid milk, halitosis, and mildew. Goggy “disappeared” one day. Jujie got over it eventually.

  Aside from chewing the dog, Julian didn’t do much as a toddler. In fact, he was so chilled out that everyone was starting to worry about him. But soon enough, he found joy in making people laugh. He was such a goofy, funny, sunny little boy. And to this day, he is still the only one in our family who truly knows how to relax properly.

  One summer, when he was still in diapers, Julian used to run away all the time. Our family would innocently be going about our business, when you’d hear my mom cry, “where’s Julian?” We’d all scatter and search the neighborhood for him. Most of the time we found him laughing, running naked and free in a neighbor’s yard, having discarded a poopey diaper on somebody’s front porch. Once we found him inside the rabbit cage in the back yard, cuddling the terrified bunny.

  That same summer, Julian was completely obsessed with the book, and especially the movie, Ricky Ticki Tavi. It was on his mind every waking second, it seemed. One evening, Julian was dismissed from dinner early to play in his room. Mom was enjoying some quiet time in the living room and I was going about my chore of loading the dishwasher after dinner. Things had been quiet for some time, when suddenly things got too quiet.

  “Where’s Julian?”

  We went outside, calling for him, searching the rabbit cage, peeking over the neighbor’s fence. Then mom checked the garage. The van was missing. We ran out to the front driveway and saw something that made my mom’s jaw drop to the ground.

  The minivan was crashed into the Dixon’s house, which was kitty corner and across the street from ours. At the very moment we laid eyes on the disaster, Julian squirmed out of the driver’s side, unscathed, running towards my mom.

  “It’s okay, mommy! I wore my seatbelt!”

  How Julian managed to put the key in the ignition and get the car rolling downhill in neutral is beyond anyone. And even though he ended up crashing, he did a pretty good job of steering. He stayed on the pavement and avoided the big trees in our yard near the end of the driveway. When asked by a family friend a few days after the incident why he stole his mommy’s van, he replied in earnest, “I was going to the library to rent Ricky Ticki Tavi!”

  For a while when they were elementary aged, my brothers decided that they would only wear robes in the house. They called their felt robes “robe-ins” and wore them unashamed, totally nonchalant. Anthony would usually change into clothes and hide if I had people over, but not Jujie. He would wear his robe and chill with me and my friends, joining in the conversation as if he were seventeen instead of seven. My friends thought this was hilarious. My brother’s nickname among my friends is “The Little Heffs,” referring of course to Hugh Heffner, who also enjoys a wardrobe comprised exclusively of robes. Whenever I get to see people from back home, one of the first questions I get asked is, “how are The Little Heffs? How is Jujie?”

  I hope Julian doesn’t mind me writing all these potentially embarrassing things about him for his birthday, but something tells me that he won’t. Julian’s heart is light and friendly. He knows funny well. And these stories of his boyhood are just that: funny.

  Julian (also called Ju-ju, Ju Ju Bear, Bear, Jujie, and sometimes, by my friends who found my family’s endless use of pet names for Julian hilarious: Jujamakooge, and Joojamakige) likes art (his imagination is endless and his style is original and textured and really good), music (he plays violin and not in that screechy, dreadful student type way; in an award winning, beautiful way), and Monty Python. He was looking forward to German class this fall.

  Julian is fifteen this Christmas morning. He is entering that beautiful, amazing, frustrating time when we figure out how our identities, our uniqueness fits into society. A time when we might feel pressured to change, to be things we aren’t.

  To Jujie, from Truje: this fifteenth year of your life will be grand. Be you. Who you are, what you like, what makes you laugh is more beautiful than you can imagine. Big hugs!

  
  Julian (foreground), with cousins Nick and Alex
  ________________________________________________________
  The day Julian was born was my favorite Christmas. Do you have a favorite Christmas?

  ::Random Tangent::
  This Christmas, Shaun and I are nestled in our Glasgow flat with movies, neglected New Yorker magazines, long walks in the fog, and good cooking. Christmas Eve I cooked up some delicious salmon with ginger/orange marinade, purple sprouting broccoli, and runner beans. For Christmas we’ll be eating fresh tortellini with garlic spinach and sun dried tomatoes. And lets not forget the Queen’s Speech, 3 pm on Christmas day! The BBC will be streaming it online (we don’t own a TV, so this is good), for all who are interested. I miss my friends and family heaps, but our upcoming vacation has proved to be a fun distraction from the homesickness. Tuesday (Boxing Day!), we are off to Brussels. (YAY!!) Pictures and stories coming soon.

  And last but certainly not least: Happy Holidays to all in Xanga-land. Thanks for reading. Thanks for writing. Thanks for sharing. Human connection is alive and well here. And I am really grateful for it. I hope 2007 is charmed for you all.

  • 7:02 pm
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