o brother, where art thou?
a post for sibling revelry.
Those Fowler Kids, July 2005. We both hate this picture. We think we look...special.
I have a brother. His name is Sean. He is turning 35 this September, and he lives way, way up North -- all the way in Yellowknife, NWT, where people keep penguins instead of canaries (just kidding!). I was inspired by Chuck's blog to learn what my family might blog about me...about us. I knew it wouldn't be nearly so sweet or poetic, since my family is a bit more goofy and neurotic than his. But nonetheless, here you go.
He and I are very different people, but we love each other dearly, even when we'd rather strangle than hug. This is what he wrote for you about his sister.
meg.
by Sean Fowler (brother)
Howdy.
Meg suggested I write a little something about the two of us, and the nature of our relationship, and its place in the universe, etcetera...
I should really be folding laundry, paying bills, and buying groceries so that I might eat, but here goes...
I've known Meg since she was born.
I apparenly never asked for a sibling, but accepted her upon arrival. When we were youngsters, she could beat up on me, 'cause I was reluctant to use force with her. As angry as I would make her from time to time, she would be the one to drop verbal nukes that would end any altercations (she called me a bastard once, and I was as surprised that she knew the word as I was shocked that she used it on me) (editor's note: I was seven). We did, however, often play well together, especially in Whitehorse (Ranger Rick!) and Edmonton (action figures and stuffed animals...).
"Hey, Sean and Hunter, come watch me and Scott neck!"
-Meg, age 4 or 5.
Scott had a permanent booger hanging from his left nostril.
I got yelled at a lot. Still do, by way of e-mails.
I think our relationship improved over years, especially with distance added into the equation; when I was in the army, I actually called from Oklahoma to Calgary, when she was in BLTS (not a sandwich). Too bad when someone answered the student phone, they didn't actually pass along the message that Meg's brother was calling LONG DISTANCE! I waited on the line to the sounds of silence for nearly 10 minutes before someone noticed the phone was off the hook, and hurried things along...
We don't see each other much these days, what with me stuck in the frozen North most of the time, but I just got down in mid-July, and got to see Meaghan (that's Meegan, not Megan, for pronounciation purposes) for about an hour. It was abit of an ambush, actually, 'cause I called her from around the corner to let her know we (My girlfriend Carey and I) were there.
I was wearing a shirt and tie from church that morning. Meg had been working to meet various project deadlines all day and was unwashed, in a messy (she said; looked fine to me) apartment. Surprise!
The most contact we have now is when she cyber-berates me for putting political comments on her blog (we have a few nearly diametrically opposed viewpoints; I am a Texan by birth and a "Red-State" one, at that).
But there is still much love between us, and I'd kill to protect her (and do great physical harm to those who would merely hurt her feelings, given the chance). One of my great regrets is that she dated very little in school (editor's note: sucker!), thus robbing me of the opportunity to intimidate boyfriends. Now the distance prevents it, although with Meg's stated love of athletic, hockey-playing types, that would be much more difficult now.
I'd still try, though.
I was once ready to travel quickly from Chilliwack to Edmonton to defend her, but she ended up solving the problem herself, for which I am very proud of her (editor's note: It wasn't so bad! I just had to move...).
Meaghan's self-sufficiency amazes me, and she has way more courage than I do to follow her dreams and do what she loves, even if it doesn't seem practical (or even financially sound) to do so. What a tough chick (remember that, guys -- she's tough, and will kick your ass. And when she's done with you, there'll be nothing left for me to beat on.)!
I love my sister, and so should you!
Ah, now for my rebuttal. Just kidding -- that would be unfair, since he wrote his part first. But here's my take on our relationship, and on him. I'd just like to say, I'm not nearly as violent as he makes me sound. Mostly.
sean
by Meg Fowler (sister)
I've known my brother since I was born. I have no idea what he was before I came to be, although from what I understand, he was a more peaceful, tidy, thoughtful baby and toddler than I had any hope of being. I was noisy, messy, chatty and fidgety -- not much has changed since then, apparently.
I did beat up on him, and no -- he didn't beat up on me. He's a very gentle person, still, for all his size and height and brawn.
We did play well growing up; we were probably the two easiest kids to travel with in the world, because we didn't fight much in confined spaces, we could entertain one another, and once we got laughing, well -- let's just say my parents spent many a car trip giggling in the front seat at the antics of their offspring in the back.
We would fight verbally fairly often, though, mostly because we're incredibly different in some ways, and very alike in others. His black and white is my gray, and vice versa. He is conservative where I am liberal, and liberal where I am conservative. I'm shy, but an attention freak. He's reserved, but a social charmer. He wanted to understand things and ideas and how the world worked, while I just wanted to climb into peoples' heads. What we share is an insane sense of humour, and a love for having fun and adventures. What we see as fun might be different, but alas...
He was a stubborn and sullen teenager at points, just like most guys I know, and at other points, he was the most entertaining person in any given room. I didn't make much effort to understand him at that age, but I don't think that's uncommon for brothers and sisters.
Sean has always been incredibly bright; he loves science fiction, history, art, and literature. He reads voraciously -- much more voraciously than me, and I'm the one with the English degree. He and my mom share a crazy bond because she is the same way as he is -- always looking to learn something.
He was bored in school past a certain age, and would bring home grades that didn't match his capabilities, much to my parents' frustration. He's a very gifted artist, and very musically astute as well -- he didn't sing for ages because of a nursery school incident (he was mocked by a teacher for wanting to sing 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star' -- believe me, if a kid wants to sing a song, I let him! It silenced my brother forever!), but he sings beautifully now.
He owns more music than anyone I know, and loves everything from Classical to Jazz to Bluegrass to Rock to I don't even know what. He was also a gifted actor in high school, and he's a wicked mimic and performer of accents -- he's made me laugh many a time with a Scottish brogue, especially.
He did attend some college -- an incredibly weird and diverse selection of courses -- but didn't graduate with a degree. He's very much a self-taught kind of person, and knows a great deal as a result of his love of research and discovery. His career goal was to become a police officer, and he would be an incredible one, if that ever came to pass. The RCMP tends to go through hiring phases (that we won't get into), so right now, Sean works in hotel management, and does a great job at that.
He was born in Texas, when my dad was in seminary, and though he didn't live there again until he was 22 (Ft. Sill, Oklahoma, 82nd Airborne), he is very much interested in that side of his dual citizenship. He joined the US Army at that age (much to my sisterly chagrin -- I was terrified he'd be hurt) because of a desire to serve (one that I hold as incredibly honourable). Due to some injury circumstances (another story too long to tell here), he was discharged, which I think left him with a strange sense of loss -- like something was unfinished; something he would have excelled at.
The Army would have been lucky to have him -- he has incredible discipline in situations like that, a strong sense of right and wrong, and a giant soft heart of compassion to balance it all out. 
Now, having said that he loves being an American, he also loves being a Canadian. He loves Canadian bands, Canadian cities (some of them), and could quote you a lot of SCTV.
My brother is an exceptionally fair person, a just person, and a major defender of the underdog. My mother used to say that Sean would bring home odd friends when he was younger because she'd always told him to stand up for the underdog in school. And he wouldn't stop there -- he'd love them.
We don't spend much time together, now, tis true. And we argue like cats and dogs over our politics, though I would defend his right to believe what he believes, because he was, and would be willing to take the risks and the steps to back it up. He pokes holes in the stereotypes attached to his politics, and as much as I shake my fist at him and tell him to keep it off my blog, I respect his level of conviction.
We bond over things like coffee and sushi and music now when we can see each other, and I know he's proud of me, and I of him. We won't ever have a perfect relationship, because there are so many things that we will never see eye to eye on.
He has a great girlfriend who made a fabulous impression on me during the short time we had to meet, and I know she has opened up new kinds of happinesses for him in the past months.
Sean and Carey. See, they look good.
At the end of the day, I'd do whatever I could to protect him as well, though he can pretty much take care of himself.
I love my brother -- and so should you.
8:00:05 PM 
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