I have an English last name- Weatherby. I’m mostly Italian, but my last name is English. It comes from my father’s father, Harold Weatherby. This is whom my brother is named after. Harold Lucas Weatherby is my brother’s name, but we’ve called him Luke for as long as I can remember. Luke and I grew up in a town called Bourne in Cape Cod. I like to think he’s the guy version of me, of course, older, the one who got the sh*t end of the stick growing up, and the one who was always came second to the “princess” (me.) We would play as children growing up for hours every day. After coercing him to play dolls with me in the sliver of warm sunlight illuminating my living room floor, he’d objectively comply with my every wish. Right down to the exact words to say, I’d tell my brother how to play. I’d say “Luke, I’m the queen and you’re the King. Now put on the crown and hold my hand.” He’d just do as I’s say. And he didn’t mind. He knew he could go and play alone, and for some of the time, he would. But when he’d see my creativity and spark in playing, he could resist coming over to my blanket cave, bursting down the hatch doors demanding: “I want in.” My mom would question my brother, she would ask “Luke why do you listen to her? You know you don’t have to do what she says, right?” and every time, he would answer by saying “Mom, it’s just easier.”
I once overheard my father say “We live on the Cape. It’s only called COD because of the DAMN tourists who coined us fisherman for stealin’ all the cod in the area way back when. ” I don’t remember where or who he was talking too, but I liked his idea of this. It’s one of my favorite snippets of a memory.
We lived in a house right on the water, within about 100 yards of the beach. We grew up in the 90’s, where the local restaurants were packed every night and we knew everyone on our neighborhood’s block. We had two English Springer Spaniels named Jack and Jill, and if you know my dad then you’d know instantly he was the one who named them. The simplest, shortest, one syllable names. My dad would sometimes take them pheasant hunting with him, and he’s say “I need them to listen and come when I want them too. Jack and Jill are just simple names.” The dogs had a huge wire gated pen in my front yard that they lived in. Between letting the dogs out of the pen and riding my battery-powered Barbie Trail Blazer into my neighbor’s driveway, you can imagine the trouble I got into. I’d zip across the street into this man Bart’s driveway and of course, I would go as fast as that little blazer would let me go, taking turns as quickly and recklessly as possible. I’d weave in and out of the poles coming down from the deck, and just barely miss the bumper of the car parked in the driveway. Bart would be biting his tongue watching me, at the edge of his seat. But my father always had this confidence in me, that I wouldn’t hit a single thing, and that I’d be just fine.
I remember the 90’s and early 2000’s as a care-free, happy go lucky time. Everyone was happy, the economy was much better than it is today, and I was a happy kid. I had everything I could have asked for; a brother, a wonderful environment, and a bike. My brother and I used our large and child-safe neighborhood to our advantage. The Grey Gables market was our go-to, my friend’s parents and grandparents had all worked there at the time. Everyone in town knew my family. My brother and I, along with our best friends attended every single swimming lesson that was held on the beach in front of our lawn. Why? Because, well, why not? We had nothing else to do but build sandcastles and jump off the docks. Life was simple, easy, and happy. My favorite thing about my childhood growing up on the cape was forming the love for the colorful purple and pink quahog shells I would find every day on the beach. I brought at least ten with me up from the beach every day, which absolutely enthralled my mother, as if we didn’t have enough of them in the house anyway. I would track in daily amounts of sand, sea shells, and little pails with three or four live sea critters crawling around in some salt water. My mom once found three hermit crabs, dried and shriveled up from lying in the hot sun, just lying on the steps of our back door. After that day my family earned a new rule. All sea creatures stay at the beach.
One thing my father told me he would always do in life was to bring me out west to California, see Hollywood, LA, and San Diego. February of 09 we flew into LAX and stayed a week in Cali. One of the stores he brought me into was clearly a tourist attraction. I had picked up one of the purple quahog shells that reminded me of home. I showed my dad the beautiful shell, and showed him how much the price tag read. When he saw the steep price of 20 dollars for a small simple quahog shell, he said “20 DOLLARS?! For God’s sake, back on the cape we crush these things up and throw them in our driveways!” We moved on to the next shop.
This childhood setting paved the way for the awesome relationship I have with my brother. As we grew up, we met so many kids around our neighborhood that we had become close friends with over time. We had our crew of neighborhood friends, and once my parents divorced and bought separate houses, our network of friends expanded. My mom moved to a different neighborhood on the other side of town that was surrounded with a bunch of kids our age. We rode bikes all day, jumped the 15 foot drop off of the singing bridge into the Pocasset River all day long, and soaked up as much sunshine as possible.
My relationship changed with my brother once we were both in highs school. We were both considered adults, and were held to a much higher, more mature pedestal. We had moved one more and final time, in the same town just right down the street. It was an A Frame house, with a sign that read “Topsides” across a plate hung underneath the bedroom window. This was always kind of a joke to all of the people who were close to us. We didn’t know what Topsides meant, but it was always the name of my house, and how we referred to the shows we would have. It was an inside joke that your common person wouldn’t understand, and we loved that. Show at Topsides tonight, be there.
We had responsibility since my mother worked nights editing the Cape Cod Times newspaper that came out the next morning. We had our house to ourselves just about every night of the week for the four years that we attended high school. The things that we got into are pretty much imaginable. The times that we had with our friends were some of the best memories of my life.
Luke and his friends played in a band, and were extremely musically inclined throughout high school. My brother played sports, but his friends were all in the drama club and very into theatre. Since my brother is in the grade above mine, we had two separate classes that all blended together into a big “melting pot”, a huge group that all got along. One evening we decided to clear out my entire dining room (dining room table, armoire of my mother’s china, book cases, etc) and put everything upstairs to have room for a drum kit, amps, microphone stands, and a huge open space for people to stand, dance, and listen to music. Before the party would actually arrive, we would invite just the close group of friends my brother and I had. My best friend and I, also named Elizabeth, were pretty much inseparable. She came over that night, along with my friend Stelliana and Nicole to set up early. Tori and Kelsey were also some of my friends who came early, along with my brother’s crew: Parker, Jay, Adam, Eddie, Jensen, Jeff, Max, and Sam. We were all present to help set up for the show, and we moved every single breakable wine glass, piece of china, cup, spoon, bowl, and plate up onto my mother’s bed, which was at the very top of the A frame. I remember when we had finally finished making china runs, we snapped a picture of her bed, completely cover in glass essentials, and my cat Rory just curled up sleeping in the middle of it all. It was a priceless portrait. We played show after show at Topsides, they were some of the best memories of my life.
I’m not sure exactly what I want to do with my life just yet. I love children, and I know I’d like to work with them as well as someday have my own. I am also interested in so many things in the world. I have explored other careers, and have not finalized my decision yet on exactly what it is that I want to do. However what I am very positive about is that I am an extreme product of the place that I’m from and the way in which I grew up. And I absolutely love that. My environment has made me the person that I am today, my choices have reflected on my character and, I’m one happy son of a gun.
I am exactly like my father, and my brother, and in ways my mother. I take my father’s morals and life lessons, along with my mother’s womanly/motherly traits like cooking and nurturing. I love my parents more than anything in this world, but my brother is going to always be the person who I’ll have forever.
Life has taught me that you can focus on every down side to the situation; you can look at the glass half empty, you can preemptively judge others at first sight, and you can choose to look down on your life, but you must know that in that mindset, nothing will change. Things will stay negative in your life. If you have the ability to look at the positives in life, focus on the true meaning of happiness, find what in life you are motivated to do, and willingly follow that passion, you can do anything, change anything, be anything, and achieve anything. Life is what you make it. It all starts with you. Be the change you wish to see in the world.