The Scene staff
To grab attention from a fleeing audience, makers of the iconic board game Monopoly conducted a poll to find out which of its game pieces were most popular.
Normally, there’s nothing I’m up for more than a little procrastination via the Internet, but in this case, I didn’t have to click any further to know the answer to Parker Brothers’ question.
The squabbling my siblings and I used to do when picking pieces often lasted longer than it took to play the game.
Eventually, I always had that ace in the hole — seniority. Frustrated with his kids’ inability to make a seemingly arbitrary decision, my dad would proclaim, “Justin is the oldest. He gets to be the car.”
Boo-yah!
Generally, I’ve always tried to hold the position of “big brother” with great nobility and pride, but sometimes it has its downsides.
Sure, you’re always first — first to get your own room, first to stay out past dark, first to sneak back in the next morning. And hand-me-downs? Forget about it!
But being the oldest means you have to be a trailblazer, always willing to push the envelope. Ears don’t just pierce themselves, people. And who do you think shattered the glass ceiling when it came to renting PG-13 movies? This guy.
With great privilege comes great responsibility, and that’s how I’ve always felt about being a big brother.
Even though I’m in my mid-30s and my brother and sister are all grown up, I still feel pressure to be a positive role model.
I guess I was always that way. I can remember early on, when it was just me and my sister Jessica. I’d spend hours putting together these elaborate quizzes for her to take.
She might have only been in first grade, but that didn’t stop me from pointing out how little she knew about long division or sentence structure. I think I threw in a few questions about Batman, too.
Then came Ben, the baby of the family. Thanks to him, I became convinced that I was put on this earth to prove once and for all my superior skill at sports and video games.
The first summer I was old enough to earn the title of babysitter was pretty humbling. Suddenly, I was in charge with nothing to fall back on but a set of phone numbers and $20 my dad left in case of an “emergency.”
Thankfully Ben’s severe case of Nintendo thumb quickly subsided when iced with 15 ice cream sandwiches and a Choco Taco.
General Dwight D. Eisenhower once said, “Leadership is the art of getting someone else to do something you want done because he or she wants to do it,” and nowhere was that doctrine more employed than at our house at chore time.
Responsibility had to be divided between the family room, which was always messy, and the living room, which hadn’t entertained a guest since the Reagan administration.
But the crème de la crème of dreaded tasks was the kitchen. Instead of drawing up a chart or rotating jobs, I devised a system that remains a point of contention to this day – the chore hat.
Now, I’m not officially admitting to anything here, but the beauty of the chore hat was that it inherently required someone tall to ensure the “randomness” of the drawing.
With a little imagination, you can guess who rarely did the dishes.
I think the sibs eventually caught on, and while they deny retaliation, I can point to a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle collection expropriated to an undisclosed locker at Arrowhead Bowling Alley as clear evidence.
Now that we’re all adults, I’m starting to wonder if I’ve lost some ground. My sister, who can probably retire off the interest she’s banked from every birthday check since 1987, has a family of her own.
My brother, who’s no stranger to train wrecks, believe me, ironically works as a terminal manager for one of the largest rail services in the nation.
I’d suggest we all put our collective achievements into the chore hat and see who comes out on top, but I’m not even sure I’m the tallest anymore.
I still have some milestones in my future — first one to turn 40, first to start losing my hair, first to have a full-blown mid-life crisis.
It’s not a race, but I can see similarities to the days of huddling around the Monopoly board. We round the corner each year, collect our $200 and keep rolling the dice until one of us goes bankrupt or winds up in jail.
Hopefully, that last part won’t ever apply, but I can’t help but wonder what Monopoly players have wondered since the dawn of time: “Is this game EVER going to end?” Some of us have to get up get up in the morning. Geez!
April 18 is National Siblings Day, and while I joke about being an ex-only child, it’s hard to imagine what my life would’ve been like without Jessica and Ben.
Maybe one day, when we’re all sitting around at the old folks home, fighting over who gets to be the self-driving astro-sedan, I’ll be content just knowing how lucky I’ve been.
Perhaps I don’t say it enough, but I love my brother and sister, and whether I’m first or last, I’m just glad to be in there somewhere.
One thing’s for certain, if someone ever invents a self-driving astro-sedan … Front seat! I called it!