Black becomes white

An interesting revolution has taken place in my family: a black sheep has turned white. Maybe it's just ugly sibling foolishness, but I'll be frank: I've always thought of my younger brother as a black sheep. He was a compulsive liar as a child, repeatedly ran away from home, struggled in school (still don't know if he ever graduated), got into trouble with drugs early and often, got into car accidents, went to Northern California to live off the grid in a kind of barter economy, knocked up a young country girl, married her, divorced her and so forth. I know there are other ways of enumerating his history that would emphasize his successes and his good intentions. But this is how I saw him—incorrigibly wrongheaded and irresponsible. But it turns out I was wrong. Or maybe I was right about his younger self, but his 53-year-old self has been a revelation.

For one thing, he showed up when the 'rents had their health crisis, and he helped me both practically and emotionally. And then, miraculously, he stayed on after I left to oversee our father's homecoming from rehab. And we had enjoyable, thoughtful conversations whenever we were together. 

So I almost lost my parents, but I gained a brother I didn't know I had. In fact, I'm wondering now if maybe I'm the black sheep in the family.