My sister and I were born only 18 months apart, and I have no real memory of life before she arrived, though being the first child and grandchild in the family, I like to imagine my days were pretty awesome in that everyone was mesmerized by my wide-eyed cuteness and devoted to keeping me happy. Then, arrived my sister. An enormous, colicy, demon-lunged monster baby, she required a higher level of upkeep due to both her near constant screaming and tendency to spontaneously stop breathing in the middle of the night. As such, my early years were largely dominated by my younger sister asking for what she wanted, and getting it for the most part.
This is not to say I didn’t love her. I did, and do, fiercely, devotedly, in the way that sisters do, despite her growing tendency to shamelessly and masterfully manipulate me. As we entered school, it became apparent that while I was smart and pleasant enough to please most adults, she was another creature entirely. Completely assured of her superior intellect from the moment she could speak, she had no fear of challenging the authority of any and all adults, and she felt no remorse if she got what she wanted by somewhat nefarious means. While this often worked to my advantage, there was an equal chance that in whatever her particular game was, I would play the coyote to her roadrunner. My parents, believing I might one day wisen up (I didn’t), left us to our own devices most of the time, so I turned to bibliotherapy for solace.
Through some miracle, The Great Brain series by John D. Fitzgerald entered my life. Told through the eyes of J.D. Fitzgerald, The Great Brain books told of a family living in Adenville, Utah in a largely Mormon community. I was taken by the exotic location (at least to my suburban eyes) and the adventures of the Fitzgerald boys, who always seemed to be exploring caves, or river rafting, or solving train robberies. This may be because of a failed experiment as a Girl Scout, in which I learned that camping, for our local troop anyway, did not consist of campfires, sleeping outdoors, or any use of a compass whatsoever, and included far too many yarn-based crafts for my taste.
The real star of the show, however, was Tom, middle brother and town genius. Having no fear of using his “great brain” to get his way, he was prone to swindling his friends, outsmarting the adults in town, supplying advice whether desired or not, and generally alienating people until such time as they had an insurmountable problem and begged for his help, usually for a price.
The exasperation and admiration J.D. seemed to have for his brother in equal measure was no doubt a source of comfort for me and my dealings with the great brain who resided in the lower bunk of our shared bedroom. Though her schemes were never wicked enough to warrant her being put on trial by the rest of our neighborhood as the boys of Adenville ultimately did to Tom Fitzgerald, they did ensure that she was denied recess for most of her elementary school years. From convincing her friends that they were aliens and could only speak through her as their interpreter to declaring that she would not complete her worksheets because they held no meaning for her, she was quickly branded a problem child, and her antics were rarely resolved without parental interference. As embarrassing as it was to be outsmarted by a younger sibling, it did not escape my attention it was probably best that teachers met me first.
And so I turned to J.D. and friends for a glimpse into a world where there was more adventure to be had than pick-up soccer games and street tennis, a baseball/tennis hybrid created by our the kids on our block, and where, just occasionally, the great brain got his comeuppance.
--Samantha Marker works as a teen librarian in New Jersey and is still occasionally outsmarted by her younger sister.
