How does an idiot like me survive…

While growing up, having an older brother came in pretty handy. His name—Mark Jay Uris. The Mark came from our dad’s middle name, Marcus. My father instilled his finest attributes in my brother, who in turn, never squandered wisdom, caring, and friendship with me.

I was created to amuse my brother and sister…

That’s me in the middle. Seems like all my sister wanted was a fancy dress-up doll. My brother just wanted someone to play with. Sorry Mark, it will be another couple of years before I’m much fun. Being the baby of the family had its ups and downs. The best part—when Mom or Dad were upset, they usually took out their frustrations on the biggest targets. In that, my brother and sister took many direct blows that were intended for me. Downside—I would always be the baby.

Hand-me-downs were a way of life…

We seldom complained as kids. My parents were raised during the Great Depression and they never discounted the value of a hard earned dollar. Seasoned by poverty, my older sister and brother understood hard times better than I. The year I was born, my dad published his first novel, Battle Cry—a realistic account of the Marine Corps during the Pacific Campaign of World War II. By the time I was old enough to ride a trike, Dad had three bestsellers under his belt.

Our family rose to every occasion with a smile…

My mother had her clone—my older sister. They were the best of friends—did most everything together: cook, shop, dressmaking, party planning, figuring ways to foil artificial male superiority experienced in most families and societies. Dad had two clones—Mark became Dad’s right hand who displayed his better qualities.

I chose the spotlight in the middle—determined to express my own terminal uniqueness, I chose whatever was left on the table—unfortunately, Dad’s finer attributes were already dibbed by my brother. Conveniently second in every selection… I settled for orange, although blue was my favorite—but Mark Jay selected years before, as with the guitar—and on and on. I didn’t mind. I looked up to Mark and would follow him into the depths of hell at the drop of a hat.

Our friendship only grew stronger over the years…

My brother never had to try at being loved and appreciated. He enriched the lives of most everyone he met. Always ready to pull a joke out of his shirt pocket to lighten the heaviest of moods. Mark stood by me during many difficult times in my life. Without him harping on my faults, I would have gone through life oblivious to my own stupidity.

My favorite photo of Mark Jay Uris…

This was my brother and I in our natural environment—watching out for one another while walking the metaphorical plank of life. He was there for me, always.

The television show, Leave it to Beaver portrayed an older brother, Wally, and a younger inquisitive brother, The Beaver—who always got into trouble… the devoted Wally was never late to the rescue—to save his brother from himself.

In my world, Wally (Mark) saved the Beaver (Me) from oblivion on a regular basis. What are brothers for? In any well written script, in the end, the older brother imparts wisdom to his younger brother, so that both may live.

In my memoir, The Uris Trinity, I recall where Mark, Dad and I face the perils of a spy movie…

Find The Uris Trinity at Amazon.com
Read Michael’s blog/journal at” www.michaelcadyuris.com
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