This is a guest post by Jake Martin, SJ.
“Hey, big brother!” My sister Amanda has greeted me this way since the time she could string together words (which was very young; she’s the smarty pants in the family), and I’ve always loved hearing it. I’m sure it’s not unusual for a little sister to refer to her older brother in this manner, but I’ve always loved the affection and endearment that it connotes. I guess because I love being an older brother and all the attendant responsibilities that go along with it: teasing my sister mercilessly, being suspicious of any boy that comes around, teasing my sister mercilessly.
I was especially grateful to hear my sister chirp out her traditional greeting from her phone the day after Hurricane Sandy. My baby sister is all grown up and living on Manhattan’s Lower East Side, which was hit pretty hard by the storm. I expected she would be okay, but there’s always that Irish part of myself that thinks the worst. So when I heard her, “Hey, big brother,” just as sweet and squeaky as when I would come home from school and she’d be riding her tricycle on the sidewalk in front of our house, decked out in her Little Mermaid jogging suit, grape jam smeared across her face, I relished being a big brother more than usual.
Jake Martin, SJ, is a Jesuit comedian and writer from Chicago. He is the author of What’s So Funny About Faith?
{ 18 comments… read them below or add one }
What vivid imagery and what gratitude! Thank you!
Jake, how i enjoyed reading your post this morning.
What came to mind when I saw the ear was –the sign language classes I had studied in before.
Signs and images-my nephew is deaf
Learnt to be expressive in a new way.
Thank you
I’m glad your sister’s voice came through again, and I hope her power has been restored. What an ordeal for New Yorkers!
I am so grateful for the sound of music. I frequently make long drives in the evening, when the local classical station is playing “Symphony at Seven.” Tried and true works, mostly, which means music that evokes all kinds of memories for me or, because I know it so well, gives me an opportunity to listen closely for sounds and phrases I haven’t noticed before.
This past week-end, another station was celebrating the 60s. Every time I hopped into the car, I was treated to more sounds and memories from that formative time in my life. I think that it was the experience of listening to far-away radio stations late at night as a young girl in very rural Ohio that gave me my first sense of connection to a world far bigger and more varied than the one in which I lived.
I love it that you and your sister are so close – my son and my younger daughter are close as well but she, although the baby of the family, always looked after him!
I spent a lot of time with the hearing impaired for several years and not being able to hear what is going on means being cut off from the “hearing” world with all the nuances of our conversations as well as not hearing the birds sing or children laugh or a baby cry or the beautiful sound of music and so many other things that we take for granted. This results in a different viewpoint on life.
Being able to hear is a wonderful gift for which I am very grateful.
Amen.
I believe deafness is the worst sensory deprivation. A young woman I once taught who has both a sight and hearing impairmenst, says if one of her senses could be restored, she would prefer it to be her hearing. Not to be able to hear music……
Jake: thank-you so much for these wirds. It reminded me of when my little cousin came to live with us for a while and callled me Big Sister and than shortened it to big. I loved the greeting and her so much. Unfortunately she died at a young age and today I can hear her calling me Big from heaven. thanks again.
The sound of a loved one’s voice is such a gift. Thanks for the reminder.
So sweet. That is how I feel about Mommy. Especially when my teenagers say it. Or when I hear my husband refer to me as his wife. It is just sweetness in the air.
Glad your sister fared well. I have three big brothers, and was also teased mercilessly but who has the last laugh? Me! Cause anything I ask them to do they will do. So I say, tease away, as long as you move her furniture.
My most recent “music to my ears” was when our son Matt phoned on Saturday to let us know he had arrived safely back in Australia. His “Hi Ma” had me all choked up again!
Jake — great post. And I am really looking forward to seeing a reposonse fropm your sister, regarding your own fashion choices back in the days when she was rocking her Little Mermaid outfit.
Like you, I am grateful for my hearing when I hear the sound of my name — but your post made me think of how many different “names” I have. Like Annette, “Mama” is one of my favorites. So is the nickname my spouse usually uses. And hearing my given name said with different accents brings back really happy memories of living in other places.
And last night, I was VERY grateful to hear the sound of my car starting, after the tow-truck guy replaced the battery. It was as beautiful as a heavenly chorus.
I have four younger brothers, who refer to me as their “little sister” perhaps because I am a full foot shorter than they are? They are merciless teasers, indeed.
But when I was widowed and living alone far from family those same voices came across the phone lines, making sure that I heard a voice every night in those first dark months. They still teased me unmercifully, but I could hear beneath the short jokes their worry and their love.
These days I’m grateful for the rustling sound that the wind makes in the dry leaves in the tall old trees behind my house. I find myself standing out in the cold, damp night and listening, wondering what the Spirit is stirring up in these darkling times.
That is beautiful Michelle and a reminder to me of the sweetness of my own brothers when they “kept vigil” with me.
I am thankful for the gift of hearing because of the other things it reminds me of.
When I hear my husband call me his beloved or my son call Mom or my dad with mock teasing horror call me Maura Louise when when I say something politically incorrect, each voice reminds me of the precious relationships I have been blessed with.
When I hear the ocean touch the shore either as a gentle slap or a might roar and when I here the morning chorus begin it’s song or the russle of leaves under my feet I am reminded of the splendor of the world God has created for us.
When I hear a voice lilting a powerful piece of poetry or an instrument playing any melody great or small or even a voice not quite in tune lifting their hearts I am thankful for the many ways that God has given us to explore the the heart and our relationships with each other and our maker.
The sounds that touch me most deeply are those that have no words:
First, our little 6 mth old, especially when he doesn’t know anyone hears or sees him; the cooing and giggling. It’s as if he has a language all his own and has an invisible friend that understands and communicates with him.
My husband when he’s home, softly playing the piano (and I emphasize, *softly*).
A siren calls me to prayer for those in distress.
The earth song, just released a few weeks ago by NASA that mimics a whale song.
The sounds of black holes, circumambulating each other that sound similar to a human heartbeat.
YoYoMa’s Cello (I rarely know the song title, but, can’t beat YoYoMa’s Cello!)
Heartfelt, loving, laughter between groups. It’s hard not to join in or feel uplifted, even if you have no idea what anyone is laughing over.
The words, “I love you” softly whispered in my ear in the middle of the night (ok, those *are* words
Thunder, the ocean waves crashing on the shore, a river song and the forlorn cry of a loon.
And, I can’t forget the hummingbirds who come in morning and evening, especially when one flies up behind me, close to my ear……it tickles! No matter what frame of mind I’m in, it gifts me with a momentary inner joy.
Thank you God for the gift of sound and all of creation singing out your song!!!
Wow, Emma! Just WOW.
I bet your little one does have an invisible friend. A friend of mine used to say she believed that little ones can still see their guardian angels. Superstitious? perhaps but it would explain small children’s absolute openess to God’s wonder. Treasure every coo and giggle soon he will be on to words.
My early morning prayer time was interrupted by the sweet chirping of an early bird. I was drawn to listen to its free and happy singing, and it filled my heart with an indescribable joy. It was like God talking to me, comforting me, and making known his being with me at that particular time. No word can describe what the whole experience meant, nor can it ever express why the heart cannot contain God’s presence in one’s being! Only the flow of tears expressed to him the gratitude I felt.
Then, as if on cue, I found this short quote that I kept from Thomas Merton, a Cistercian Monk (1915-1958):
“There is not a flower that opens, not a seed that falls into the ground, and not an ear of wheat that nods on the end of its stalk in the wind that does not preach and proclaim the greatness and the mercy of God to the whole world.”