There is a significant gap in years between my youngest brother and the rest of us. Much of the time he had the quietude of my parent’s home all to himself. I think he often used those hours to develop his guitar playing skills. My parents had told him that he was a good singer just like me, his brother. He surely aspired to at least as much, if not wanting to see if he were even better.
Who doesn’t sing in the shower? When I came back from college one summer I acted like I had not heard my brother come in to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Here was his chance to compare. It’s not easy to fake it, but I sang as off-key and as awful as I could. I can only imagine what my brother was thinking or the facial expressions he was making as he tried to determine if my horrible tune was in earnest or not.
Later my mom asked me if I was just playing around with him because my brother had asked her that very thing. She was sure that if it was bad singing that it was me just being funny. They had a good laugh over that, because he really wasn’t sure if I was being serious or not and he didn’t want to ask me directly and risk hurting my feelings.
