Someone, like mine, to take your hand
On your first day at school.
Someone to lead you
After school on an adventure,
From sidewalk to muddy field,
To discover anthills, lizards,
and Strange wagon wheel tracks,
Mud marks, he notes,
That pioneers left, near our school,
In covered wagons heading West,
With scouts and six-shooters,
Mud-ruts to ponder, all the way home.

Someone who can divide a Hershey bar
Into two precisely equal halves
the dark of the cinema.
Someone to hassle parents
Over his violin practice until they give up
On your piano lessons.
Someone to show you, at a cookout,
How to manage seconds
And thirds without throwing up.

A brother to insist on seeing the gorilla
During every zoo-visit,
Face-to-face, without blinking,
Whispering in your ear,
"What if he escapes this very night,
Climbs to our second-story bedroom,
Grabs us through the window,
Like King Kong I the movie?"
No wonder I moved my bed that very night.

A brother to show you
How homework is done,
Neatly, on time, how to take notes,
Do book reports,
Volunteer for take-home artwork,
So that he can help you excel.
A brother to go with to the Art Museum,
Sliding on polished marble floors,
Avoiding shushing guards,
Seeking knights-in-armor,
Getting a little lost, splashing in the fountain,
Tiptoeing past the fearful mummy,
And the ceramic dragon,
Sizing up nude Greek statues,
Giggling in the name of art.

A brother steering me from easy
College courses to chemistry labs,
Then pushing me, against the odds,
To overcome admission barriers,
Anatomy exams, competition for grades,
Reminding me, more than once,
Of a goal worth waiting for,
Beyond exhaustion, and too many nights
On the wards. A brother, at times, too close,
Warning of too many maybes,
Expecting too much from the understudy.

Which invites the question:
Why does any older brother or sister
Accept the role of pathfinder,
And protector?
Why give someone sound advice
Who may resent it, shrug it off,
Without a word of thanks?
Why help a younger sib
Who may, in time, outshine you?

Strange, how decades later,
You forget scuffles and slights,
Recalling, instead, closeness taken for granted,
The gift of trust, just for being next in line.
Recalling the brother's firm grasp,
Pulling you forward, time and agian,
To the first grade teacher's desk,
Proclaiming, "My little brother's special!"
Or right up to the tiger's hot breath,
Or deftly past the schoolyard bully,
Or, later, in my starched whites,
To the front row of the amphitheater
For a better view of surgery.

Who needs an older brother?
Anyone growing up with uncertainty,
At risk of failing, or not trying.
Who needs a brother like mine?
Everyone, I guess.

Stanley Schuman
Department of Family Medicine