Flashback Friday...Buds and the Hawaii Girls

Jimmy & Carrie circa 1970

Is that the sweetest sweater you have ever seen? How about that expression on my face? It hasn't changed much, actually...I still walk around confused, with my mouth hanging open. I have much more hair now, though. Other than before age two, it's been pretty thick, actually.

Today is my brother Jimmy's birthday. He's 18 months older than I am.

{Trivia: When I called my mom to tell her I was pregnant with Patrick, she spoke in very consoling tones. When I told her we had planned it that way...and pointed out that Jimmy and I were also only 18 months apart...she replied, "Yah...but not on purpose!"}

Whether my parents meant to or not, I was very lucky to be so close in age to Jimmy. We played all kinds of fun stuff together when we were little. {And when we were in high school...he had really cute friends (payback for all those times he wouldn't leave us alone when I had friends over to play).} I don't know whether it was because Jimmy was older or because I was a pushover of a girl or what...but we always had to play masculine games.

We played Army...which consisted of Jimmy using a kitchen towel as a sling or a head bandage, holding one of our great-grandpa's rifles and moaning while I pushed him around in our great-grandma's wheelchair.

At home we played "Island of Lost People"...only this was before the days of Happy Meal toys and the general action-figure overload that most kids have today. We had to get really creative with our "people". I had these perfume-bottle dolls, and Jimmy had a Gumby and that GI Joe rip-off (I think he was called Jungle Jim or something?) and other random objects that we would move around and create dialogue with, while they tried to find a way off the "island" on my bedroom carpet.

We also used to play Cowboys and Mexicans with our friends in the neighborhood. {Don't laugh! I think the name must have something to do with us being from So Cal. Other than that, I have no idea where we came up with the name.} Everyone wanted to be Cowboys, but there had to be Mexicans, or the game would be pointless. {Enter...the little sister.} I specifically remember one day in our back yard when I was four or five, Jimmy saying to me (in his most persuasive voice), "Don't you want to be a Mexican, Carrie? Grandma and Grandpa are Mexicans." And I remember thinking it over and being like, "Ohhhh...that's why they spend so much time in Mexico!" We did go to Mexico a lot...shopping, on camping trips, or sometimes just to eat dinner and back. (And I LOVED it there. They had the best cookies.) And I had heard my grandparents speak some Spanish, too. I don't know how long after that I believed my grandparents were Mexican...or if Jimmy really thought that they were, or he was truly a manipulative genius. I also don't remember if the logic worked on me that day...but if I was wagering, I'd bet that the part was played by the hermanita. {Disclaimer: I love me some Mexicans, always have. I think this had more to do with the fact that kids want to be on the winning team, and the cowboys are the "winners," whether they are fighting Indians or Mexicans. Just had to put that out there so you wouldn't think I was a four-year-old bigot.}

But even more than Gringos and Vaqueros, our far most creative game was "Buds and the Hawaii Girls." I know not the origin of this game, but it was one we could play anywhere...the scenarios were endless. Whether we were in the backseat of the car, or sitting at the counter, trying to avoid eating our dinner, we could get into character like thaaat. {*snaps fingers*}

{Synopsis: Two grown men, each named Bud (or...at least that's how we referred to each other) lived in constant fear of two Hawaiian women (clad in grass skirts and bikini tops). The Buds were best friends, fond of hanging out in bars, taking business trips together, and slapping each other on the back while saying "Hey Bud" with deep voices. The Hawaii girls had the ability to teleport, read minds, predict the future, and fly through the sky and directly through the walls of airplanes in order to attack unsuspecting traveling businessmen. (And by attack...I mean hug, kiss, tickle and in general, rub their half-neked bodies all over them in a disgusting manner that no self-respecting kid would tolerate.)}

The game went forward with each of us contributing to the storyline, while we acted out the parts. We were always both the "Buds" and the Hawaii girls were only represented in our imaginations...and by our physical reactions to their attacks. Those were good times.

When Jimmy was on his LDS mission and I was in the Navy, every letter he wrote to me, he signed, "Buds Forever"...and although marriage, children and life have taken the place of childish imagination, he is right. We are to this day, Buds forever. Distance may part us and our new families take priority...but I will never have another "Bud" like Jimmy. We've been through much together, and I would not have made it through adolescence without him...and to some degree, I owe my life as I know it today to those letters he sent so long ago.

Many years have passed since our biggest concerns were getting enough money for tickets to see Depeche Mode and getting to the phone before the parentals when the automated "attendance alert" from the high school came through. Many trials have also passed...including his young daughter's battle with brain cancer...a diagnosis she received on his 40th birthday, two years ago. (Thankfully, she's beating it!)

When we are all able to get together, I love to watch the interaction between his children and mine. They see each other less than once a year...but always pick up right where they left off. There is so much joy in it, and I look forward to my own kids having the same experience with their children. I wonder what they will reminisce about?

Happy birthday, Jimmy. I am grateful to be your sister, and will truly be your Bud...forever. I love you.