Boy oh boy, the arrival of his brother was a top day, writes Seán Brosnahan.
Visits by my male cousins from the West Coast proved a real eye-opener. They built things and then smashed them up. They chased each other. They yelled and screamed. They were constantly re-enacting the war. Mum was appalled but it all seemed pretty exciting to me. If that was the world of boys, I wanted more of it! In short, I was desperate for a brother.
In 1968 I had become pretty excited when my mother became pregnant. For months I dreamed of the little brother gestating in her swelling belly. Oh the disappointment when yet another sister appeared (sorry Jane). Then, in 1970 my mother fell pregnant again. This time, I was fairly sure, was my last chance. I didn't want to get unduly hopeful but my excitement grew in tandem with Mum's baby bump.
Finally, on the morning of October 16, 1970, Dad came into my room to wake me for school. ''How would you like to have a baby brother?'' he asked, pausing significantly as he pulled back the curtains, ''Because you've got one!''. Every detail of that scene is etched in my memory. It was a magical moment and one of the real watersheds of my life.
Mum came up with a weird name - Bede. None of us knew where that came from. I didn't care. A brother is a brother by any other name ... and Bede was a beaut. Right from the beginning he was a tough little rooster who wasn't scared of anything and was always up for any challenge. I made sure of it. Not for him the tagging along and having to play the girls' games that had been my lot.
We built things and then smashed them up. We chased each other. We yelled and screamed, and played heaps of war games. Mum eventually got used to it. It was a boys' world and we loved it. And even though we have spent most of our adult lives on opposite sides of the world, the day my brother was born is still one of the best days in my life.
- Seán Brosnahan is a curator at Toitu Otago Settlers Museum.
