Bobby Riggs and Billy Jean King join forces…

Hi, Michael Uris here reporting to you from Encino California, on this sunny 118 degree Fahrenheit summer afternoon. This is my older brother Mark and sister Karen. Karen is our family prototype child. Not everything turned out as planned with my older sister, but my parents still a chance to get it right—with my brother Mark Jay.

Being the first son, the oldest son, Mark immediately upon birth became the heir apparent. This insured male survival in the Uris family lineage. The above required photograph was one of hundreds that my father spotlighted my older brother in—the family savior.

I found my pecking order, in the middle…

Actually, Karen got first pick of most everything. When my brother grew older, he realized that if I could distract my sister than he could get whatever he wanted. In the above scenario nobody won. While my older siblings swore they had a better seat, all of us were exposed to direct muffler smog discharge. In those days, safety wasn’t too big of a deal—luxury is what sold cars, and we loved our 8-cylinder gas hog as all of America stood proud and tall for being industrial and special (obsolete).

Standing tall next to Mark was not an option…

So there I was, a young child with a designated big brother. Intelligence wise, Mark got the first shot at keeping his grades up. My older sister had “design” on the mind, so a respectable career for her, was to marry her off young—before the prospective husbands look a good look under the hood. Even in adulthood, I never reached my brother’s height, he had the tall strong Iowa farm stock in his blood. I got what was leftover—the second son syndrome.

Mark got first pick every time…

I wanted to play the guitar more than anything. It had been a secret passion for decades. But there cannot be two guitar players in one family, why not? Because I figured that out on my own—from logical—but fair for my brother, giving him the upper hand in everything he did. I wanted him to succeed at everything he did, that way, the pressure had been taken off my shoulders to succeed. I didn’t mind that my brother chose my favorite color—blue. There are others to choose from.

The trouble was, we were far from normal…

Here is my brother and mother about to have a cub scout meeting. Mom and him wanted to be one of the gang. Being normal didn’t work with my older sister and didn’t work with my brother. People considered us different, because of my successful novelist father the entire family was put under the spotlight, adding pressure to everyone’s already existing growing pains. Yes, my childhood, on the surface, appeared normal. My mother is smiling in the photo; she must have just told my brother that he was terminally unique.

Most every sport, Mark got the first swing…

I never really liked contact sports growing up. I did find a short-lived calling with Downhill Ski Racing, but our family moved back to the West Coast and that dream faded from lack of snow. Mark tried out for football, soccer, basketball, track—just about every sport my brother encountered, he conquered. Rack another one up for the Uris males. Way to go Mark, baseball is just another sport my parents won’t have any time—for when it’s my turn at bat.

The hardest lesson in life is standing by…

If all things, my brother is loved and respected. Sure, why not, someone has to be the sheriff, and someone has to be the outlaw. My brother loved reading, got two Master’s degrees, engineering and in business. I took the twenty career ‘master of none’ approach to life. I eventually found my way to the secret door, one that I enter quite often. The doorway leads to the past, to fond memories that can never be shaken. If someone asks, “Did Mark give you a fair shot at the title.” I nod my head, smile, and say, “Wouldn’t have had it any other way.”