Notes from the past

A couple evenings ago Bug and I were at his parents home for dinner. After the plates were cleared away, stacked in the kitchen to be dealt with later, we all settled in the living-room. Bug's Mom brought out a leather bound copy of A Tale of Two Cities. When she opened the cover, inside were two little compartments that held little treasures from here sons' youths.
There were baseball cards where Bug's brothers were posed with a baseball bat held over their shoulders. These laminated cardboard rectangles documented the maturing of Bug's brothers through the years.
But the real treasure were two notes written by Bug's middle brother. They are both brief and showed two different aspects of Bug's brothers relationship to him and his disability.
The first one is a note of concern and possible warning.
"Mom, me and (Bug) are not Dead we are at 7-11 for a fue minits."
This note implies that Bug and his brother wanted to dash off to the store to probably procure some treat. I imagine that it's summer, hot, and they've gone to get something to cool them down; a slurpee, Popsicle or some ice cream treat. What I love about this note is that the middle brother would have had to care for his older brother and possibly push Bug in his wheelchair. I also love to think that this must have normal for the family.
The next note may have been written later, by the same brother and it shows dissent amongst the ranks.
"(Bug) is never told to do anything, so he will never have a chance to screw up. Just because He's in a wheelchair."
This is my favorite of the two messages from the past. Bug's brother told me last night at a family dinner that he was around eight to ten years old when he wrote it.
I imagine these two pre-teen boys defiantly, yet possibly a bit sheepishly, standing up for the injustice of getting in trouble for 'screwing up' and their older brother was totally off the hook for any possible punishment.
Bug has told me that his brothers thought it unfair that he didn't have to do chores around the house. They didn't see the wheelchair as an obstacle and tried to use it to their advantage. One time they ducted-taped the vacuum to Bug's hand and pushed him around the living-room.
Bug has shared with me that for the most part during his youth he thought that it was OK he was in the wheelchair. His Mom made every effort to get Bug involved in the community. Bug was in Cub Scouts, Sea cadets for a short while, played bocce ball and when he was really little Bug was the poster child for the Kinsmen Mother's March with local celebrity Jackson Davies. Bug had a full, busy life.
But... he tells me that when his middle brother got his driver's license everything shifted. Bug saw the freedom the license gave his brother and he knew that he wouldn't be able to get one. This was the first blaring time when Bug saw the limitations of his disability.
Hearing this story saddened me and helped me to understand Bug a little bit more. Noboby wants to be left behind, especially someone so full of life as Bug is.

Until the next time...