Yes, I’m a firstborn. With all the flaws, rights, privileges, and responsibilities that go with being a firstborn. “With great power comes great responsibility.” Hmmm. JFK? No, it was Peter Benjamin Parker. Spider-Man.
Maybe it should read, “With great responsibility comes great power.” Either way, there is an ethical piece, a balance between burden and privilege.
Firstborns can be overly responsible. And bossy. We’re also always looking out for others, and imagining the worst possible scenario. There are two reasons for this: 1) so that we’ve thought about how to handle the worst case when it comes along (and won’t be standing there humiliated); 2) we genuinely care about the fate of those around us (and we’ve been trained, from toddler age on, to take care of others).
A few months ago, I was at a poetry reading at my friend, Teri’s. A whole group of us were gathered in her living room, chatting and drinking tea. Two of us, decades apart in age, were firstborns. Late into the evening, someone leaned back in a rocking chair that was bumping against a standing brass lamp. It started to wobble and tip.
My eyes darted to the light. I noticed it right away. I had the thought, “I should go over and upright that lamp. It’s going to fall.”
I didn’t even get the chance. Within seconds, the other firstborn calmly walked over, grabbed the light, settled it into place, slid back to her seat, and didn’t miss a beat in the ensuing conversation. I simply beamed. Slick. I felt a solid kinship with the Lamp-Saver. Silent Superhero.
Later, I joked about it with the group, mentioning how both firstborns had spotted the lamp’s potential plunge to the floor, and rushed to save the day. Everyone else said, “What? What are you talking about? A lamp almost fell over?” No one else even noticed.
Firstborns operate behind the scenes, making sure things run smoothly. Unlike only borns, we sometimes don’t take the credit we are due. Flaw? Or humility.
Firstborns have a reputation for being valuable. Many 50’s families wanted their firstborn to be male. If they ended up with a female, well, you got names like Earline or Fredericka or Andrewzilla (just ask oliverowl). Isn’t there a story in the Bible where a faithful believer was asked to sacrifice his firstborn son? Maybe it was Isaac and Abraham. Or was it Ishmael? It depends on which religion. And I’m not good at names.
I do remember being a young kid and reading a thick tan Bible Story book, handed down to my by my Aunt Cassie. I recently ran into it in a box of memorabilia. It rekindled a fading image of me as a child, rocking in my bedroom, reading Bible Stories out loud to myself.
I don’t remember the names. But the concepts made an impression. Turn the other cheek. Give unto others. And you don’t really have to sacrifice your firstborn — setting an intention is enough to show your faith. The Bible is about stories and parables. We don’t have to cling to every literal word to live a spiritual life. Still, that story of sacrifice scared me.
My mother is a middle-born child. But her oldest brother died when she was a teenager, a few months before I was born. He drowned over the July 4th weekend, while swimming at Clark’s Hill Dam. He had been sick with something like pneumonia, too weak to make the shore. He was only 18. No one expected it. After that, my mother became an oldest child.
Last June, when Mom and I visited my Aunt Annette for the first time in 50 years, we talked about the drowning. She remembered it. And when Mom and I visited her brother’s grave, I asked if everyone was still sad a few weeks later when I was born. Were they still grieving?
She looked at me gently, surprised at the question. Then, without hesitation, she said, “No, Honey, everyone was so happy when you were born. You were a bundle of joy.” Firstborns worry about these things. (Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!)
What I have noticed over the last week, as I’ve been thinking about this Writing Topic, is that in my relationships, I have been attracted to responsible middle-borns. What is a responsible middle-born? One who is independent like a firstborn, but has a middle-born carefree Tiggerness. They like to have fun.
This has been a consistent theme in my relationships. I have not been with an oldest child. Or a youngest child. Only responsible, free-spirited middle children. And usually with women younger than I am, anywhere from a few years, up to a decade.
And when I ask them about their relationships, they tell me they’ve always been attracted to those who are older then they are. I didn’t ask them about the firstborn part. All I know is middle-borns keep me feeling young.
-posted on red Ravine, Thursday, May 8th, 2008
-related to Topic post, WRITING TOPIC – BIRTH ORDER
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