Michael

I'd forgotten about this essay for UT. But I like it, and I have little to write right now, so here it is.


When my brother has something to say, you listen; he is wise beyond his fourteen years. You listen, but you also wait.

Michael has a stutter- he always has, regardless of years of speech therapy and much to his constant irritation. When he’s excited, or tired, or angry, or even just distracted, it can take him longer to say the first syllable of a word than it would take to complete the entire story eight times- at least, to the people listening, that what it feels like. But even when his audience is visibly losing interest in whatever insight Michael was offering- or trying to offer- he keeps at it. It is this patience and determination that has made an impact on my life.

When Michael gets stuck on the letter R and “chews on it”, as one particularly unhelpful therapist used to say, he doesn’t get mad, at least not noticeably so. He takes a deep breath, looks you in the eye, and tries again, and again, and again, even if the moment has passed and his remark is completely misplaced. The frustration I can only imagine he feels is completely invisible. I have always admired him for his ability to calmly persevere.

One example of Michael’s determination that has always stood out in my memory occurred a few summers ago, at the sleep away camp my siblings and I all attended. My brother and I were both chosen as “Cabin Camper of the Week”, and were told to stand on a table during lunch time, in front of the whole camp, and introduce ourselves. We both said our names, and when it came time to say what city we were from he answered “Plano” just as I answered “Dallas”. I had forgotten about Michael’s hesitation with the letter D, and had not even considered that we were standing in front of a room full of staring kids. I doubt that anyone else even noticed our lack of coordination, but Michael laughed and said “oh yeah, Dallas.” Those three words took him close to thirty seconds, but with an audience of 200 people it was endless. Campers started fidgeting, the counselors began dishing out the food, and I was feeling more and more embarrassed for my brother. When he finally finished his unnecessary correction, he jumped down from the table and walked to his waiting cabin mates, bravely ignoring the humiliatingly public situation he had just faced. I watched as he laughed and talked with his friends, and I slowly began to realize what my little brother had known for years. While his speech impediment is clearly a hindrance to his communication skills, with enough resolve and tolerance, the barrier becomes minimal.

I am exactly three years, five months, one week, and three days older than my brother. Those three years, five months, one week, and three days have absolutely no bearing on the high level of maturity Michael exhibits more often than I do. From my brother, I learn on a daily basis that regardless of the road blocks and annoyances you’re destined to face at some point in your life, frustration is a completely useless response. Sometimes- most times- all you can do is take a deep breath, look the problem right in the eye, and try again, and again, and again.