Letters from the Other Side

2. The youngest of four and a Xennial

Xennials and youngest children

My older siblings inspired me. Hiding the despised peas under the gem squash was ingenious. Feigning to swallow the ice-cold, coagulated, eggy macaroni-and-cheese and then covertly spitting it into the toilet was a eureka-mike drop moment for me. Stealing dad's after-dinner-mints was a feat of FBI-worthy proportions. A myriad of other pieces of intelligence was learned through observing those professional operatives in the field. They were amazing! I was entranced.

I am your typical youngest child; an impudent, little twit. (According to the sibs, of course.) The older kids were clever enough not to enrage the parents with impertinent questions that would get them into trouble. That was what they had me for! I was not yet trained in the subtle art of getting others to ask the cheeky questions.

My mother forced my siblings to play with me. I even have one photo of my brothers and I dressed in ballerina outfits which I constantly use, to their chagrin, to goad them with. (Let the reader note, they dressed up in tutus voluntarily.) My big bros roll their eyes when I wave the blackmail photo under their noses and I enjoy the feeling of pay back. A win-win situation for everyone. Revenge is sweet. 

Nevertheless, I adored my older siblings. I have an elder sister and two older brothers and they are all hardened Generation Xers. I, on the other hand came out swinging at the dawn of the decade of the "Working Girl" and the "Latch-key Kid". At the butt-end of the cynical Xers, but just before the hyper-sensitive Millennials.

We are the bridge generation called the "Xennials". I had an analog childhood, like the Xers, playing outside in the mud with my siblings (when they would allow the little snotnose to join in) but my teenage years were digital (like the Millennials) with computer games such as "Pacman" and "Digger". If, and that's a big if, my brothers and their friends weren't hogging the computer.

Us kids stuck together through some tough times; two divorces and a string of frogs, I mean boyfriends. My parents divorced when I was about 8 years old. We saw our dad once every couple of months. He passed away of cancer in 2004.

It wasn't easy. My mother had to keep four young children alive on a meagre librarian's salary. We survived and all of us are stronger for it. I mean, we learned to play with crap and make it last forever. I didn't get a Barbie for Christmas, I got a Cindy doll. You can imagine the tears. Just kidding!

At that time, especially in the beginning, right after my parents' divorce, my mother was at work during the day. So at a young age I learned to rely on myself. My sister hung out at her boyfriends' or friends' houses. My brothers were always out with their mates. I had my dogs and my dream world of make-belief rooted in movies.

We used to love movies and the actors who played in them. Even as kids we knew all the names of the stars and all their movies by heart. Those were the days of "Top Gun", "Indiana Jones" and "Star Wars". The Originals.

Come Oscar night, we would all be sitting around the TV watching the awards ceremony and debating whether or not we agreed with the decision of the Academy. Everyone knows, teenagers know best. (Note to my Gen Z readers; remember this was the olden days when families only had one television set and everyone watched the same programme together, at the same time).

One of our relatives also "collected" videos. (Another note to Gen Z, in those days we didn't have YouTube and pirated movie websites and couldn't watch all the latest and greatest movies at the flick of a wrist or should I say, a button?).

With "collected" I mean he rented the videos at the local video store and illegally copied them at home and built up quite an impressive collection. I loved all the Walt Disney animated movies, "The Sound of Music", "My Fair Lady" and the other classics. This was the beginning of my love affair with film.

At some stage, my eldest brother also considered going to film school. When he got the said relative's video camera in hand, he started making amateur movies. I was the only girl (little sis had a use after all!) as my sister had moved out at that stage, so I always got the female lead. My younger brother was the murder victim. My older brother's best friend was the antagonist. There was always a fight scene and a scuffle between the two big boys. It was thrilling. I couldn't believe they let me play with them!

Come to think of it, that's just the perfect birth order model, isn't it? The oldest child, popular and fiercely independent, leaves home at 18. The oldest son is the natural born leader. The middle child gets lost in the confusion and becomes the clown and everyone thinks the youngest child is a spoilt brat.

Under the older kids' reign of terror the youngest constantly gets cut down to size because she's getting way too big for her britches. And so the circle of life goes on. Like I said, survival of the fittest.

Today, my sister is married with kids and has turned her love of painting into a successful small business. My eldest brother works in computers. He is a good husband and a great father. My younger brother is also a great dad with lots of dad jokes and a third baby, a graphic design business.

Like the idealistic Xennial and typical youngest child that I am, I rebelled against societal norms and followed my dreams instead. Thus I keep my artistic, unemployed, penniless mouth shut.