As the youngest child of four I was always referred to as “the baby” of the family. My older sister, Alison, would delight to introduce me as her “little brother” once I was at least five inches taller than she was. She is four years older. Tic, the oldest (six years older than me) went from beating me up regularly, to taking me along on his dates without warning them. This happened at least four times. All but once, the girls would spend the evening talking and dancing with me and ignoring him. I think that was his intention. These girls were ones that my mom had set him up with. I always had a good time. The one girl who was not put off by my presence was a farm girl in Wisconsin. We went to the drive-in movie to see Psycho. I was in the back seat, and kept leaning over the back of the front seat saying, “psycho!” Tic had a hard time deterring this girl, even with my assistance.
Sue Ann was short and I was tall. I surpassed her height when I was in 5th grade and she was in 7th. Many times people either thought we were twins or dating. At one ski resort, the man setting up the T-bars thought we were on our honeymoon! We set him straight in a hurry! We were 15 and 17. Of course, we were in snow gear. She took me to her jr. high dances at Carl Sandburg. I would dance with five or six girls at a time. The silly 7th and 8th grade boys were all lined up against the walls, afraid to make a move. I would help her and her friends with their math and algebra. I was a year ahead in class. They were a year ahead of that. It didn’t matter. I have a freakish thing for math. I had “Elementary Functions” in my junior year of high school. It was basically intro. to calculus. Mr. Kadieski was giving a notebook test to grade our homework. I never bothered with homework, but aced the regular tests. He said, “This next one is a gimme. It’s the quadratic equation.” I said out loud, “Oh oh!” The other students were incredulous. They asked me how I got this far without memorizing the quadratic equation. I said, “I don’t know. I just look at the problems and I solve.” My brain plotted them on the Cartesian graph. The answers were always right. They hated me.
How does this relate to my siblings?
When my parents took a vacation to Hawaii, they asked Jean Hosterman to watch us while they were gone. Jean was in graduate school for her psychology degree. She took the opportunity to give the four of us a battery of tests. She let it slip that on the intelligence tests, we tested equally on the raw scores. She was flabbergasted. Tic was slightly above average for his age, which meant that my eleven year old self tested as a slightly above average 17 year old. She gave me a whole bunch more tests with blocks and puzzles, etc. Thinking back, this, along with the Iowa test I had taken the year before, set me up to be my dad’s greatest disappointment.
Tic went to Concordia College in Moorehead, MN, for a couple of years after high school. One weekend, I took the train from Minneapolis to visit him. I was twelve or thirteen. Tic shared a two room suite in the attic of Brown Hall with Curt from Dent, MN. One night that I was there we went to an upper classman’s off-campus, basement apartment with a bunch of theology students. They started me off with a Singapore Sling. Then I had a Whiskey Sour followed by a Screwdriver. Now, I was all of 95 pounds and 5′ 9″, maybe. I still remember the discussion we had about Luther, Melancthon, etc. These guys and gals were amazed! I not only didn’t pass out. I kept up with them or bested them in theology and church history. When it was time to go, a couple of the guys were sympathizing with my brother, figuring I was going to be a mess the next day. We went up the basement steps to leave at about 2am. There was snow on the ground. I took a step straight off the back of the steps, falling headlong into the snow. I slept in a recliner they had bought at a yard sale, until 4pm. I was just fine when I got up. It’s the family curse: no hangovers.
Tic’s real name is Thomas Ingham Coulter. Our dad gave him the nickname, Tic, from his initials. I don’t know if he still uses it. Ali and Tic don’t talk to me. When Sue Ann killed herself, my dad was so ashamed he convinced her husband and kids not to tell anyone else. Tic knew, however. The funeral was creepy. Ali and I knew something was amiss. I sat with Ali and her husband. When we processed out of the church, Ali grasped my hand tightly and said, “What the fuck just happened, little brother?” My dad had invited the extended family to dinner at a restaurant near the church. Last minute, I was invited and seated with my step-sister, Kris, and her wife. My dad had figured I would be offended by this, since I had been a fundamentalist Baptist the last time he had paid any attention. I found out later that he was not going to invite me at all. My Uncle Pete (Cranford Arthur) suspected as much. When my dad invited him, Pete asked him if he had invited “young Cranford”. My dad told him no. Pete insisted I be invited and that he and Barb would not come if he did not invite me. My dad relented. Pete and Barb did not come. They were so upset. I had a great time with Kris and her wife.
Ali called me from Minnesota a couple days after I got home to Pennsylvania to discuss her suspicions regarding Sue Ann’s death. Death certificates are private in Minnesota. She and I started to investigate on our own. After a month and a half on the phone for an hour or so every night, we finally got in contact with Sue Ann’s friends who had discovered her body and suicide note.