We were both adopted, my brother and I, as was our sister who died only a few years after we joined the family.  It was sad and we missed her terribly.  I wish we’d known her better.

But my brother and I grew up together as we were adopted just a few weeks apart.  We were quite close, as you can imagine, and we did almost everything together.

Oh how we played.  We would run, hide, hunt, leap, climb, explore, and everything else you can imagine.  Gosh, we really did love each other a whole lot.

In fact, I never realized how much we loved each other until we were apart.  Apart for any reason, that is.  We just couldn’t survive without each other.

My brother, Heathrow, was the hunter in the family.  He loved to be outside and always brought goodies home to Daddy.  Whether it was a bird, a squirrel, a snake, a lizard, a bug, or even the neighbors’ pet rabbit, he sure could hunt.  He was the best hunter, and I’m not just saying that because he was my older brother; he really was the hunter’s hunter.

He loved to roam and explore the great outdoors.  I always liked to stay close to home, preferring to be at home and with Daddy more than without him.  Heathrow loved Daddy, too.  Don’t get me wrong on that count.  It’s just that he also loved being on his own to do his thing.  Sure, he’d always come back, but he loved the freedom to come and go.  I just loved home and Daddy and my brother.

He was the better climber, of course, but I’m sure that’s only because he loved being outside more than I did.  It’s also something that comes with being a good hunter (so Daddy once told me).  I, on the other hand, was the better eater.  I never got fat because of it, but I taught my brother a thing or two about enjoying food.  He taught me a thing or two about the world that existed only on the other side of the door.

I was also the better lover.  I never could be away from Daddy for too long.  Heathrow loved Daddy and showed it in all sorts of cool ways, but I had more experience and got better at it.

Heathrow even tried to teach me how to be a better hunter, climber, and all around predator, but I was never good at that no matter how hard he tried.  Maybe I wasn’t interested enough because I always knew home was where my heart was.

Then one day my brother didn’t come home.  Daddy was sad.  He cried.  I cried with him.  In fact, I even made Daddy laugh once, laugh right through his tears, because I bellowed and wailed while I sat in his lap during one of those crying sessions.  I was so happy to see Daddy smile even though it was only for a very brief moment.  We wanted Heathrow back; we missed him terribly.  And I knew I couldn’t take that pain away from Daddy.  And I realized he couldn’t take mine.  There was just this big hole where Heathrow once lived.  It was a sadness that I’d never known before, and it rested on us day and night like a thick choking smoke that filled the house.

I couldn’t go outside for several days because Daddy was too upset about my brother.  He was afraid I might leave too, I guess, even though I never would.  I’d never leave Daddy.  But I did want to go outside to see if I could find Heathrow.  After I begged and begged and cried and begged some more, I got my wish a few days later.

That’s when I caught a glimpse of my brother.  He was hurt, but he was definitely alive.  I could hear his cries and found him resting his wounded body just a short distance from where we lived.

I tended his wounds and made sure he knew I was there for him.  After I was sure he was OK, I ran home to get Daddy.  He knew something was wrong as I screamed and yelled for him to come.

“What is it, Sebastian?” he asked several times.  I told him over and over again that I found Heathrow and he needed to come with me.  Finally, he understood.  He put on his jacket and some shoes and followed me outside.

But Daddy was too slow and couldn’t keep up with me.  I ran back to where my brother was and kept calling to Daddy so he’d follow.  He was very smart and would know how to find us.

I told my brother Daddy was coming, he’d help, and he’d make everything better.  That seemed to lift Heathrow’s spirits.  But he couldn’t wait for Daddy to arrive, so I helped him stand up and walked with him—very slowly—back towards Daddy’s voice which we could hear calling out to us.

As we walked, I noticed Heathrow was hurting a lot.  The twinkle in his eye was dimmer than it had ever been.  I wept for him as we made our way toward safe arms and home and love.  I’d make sure my brother was OK, and I knew Daddy would take care of us both.

We got to the road and saw Daddy on the other side.  He was worried.  His voice was quivering as he called out to us.  It was dark and his eyes didn’t work as well as ours.  I knew he probably couldn’t see us very well, and he hadn’t seen us yet.  Even from that distance, I could tell he was crying, so I called out to him to let him know we were OK and would be there soon.

He turned to look at us and burst into greater tears.  It was joy.  He could see my brother and he could see me.  I knew everything would be OK.  I told Heathrow that as he saw Daddy and perked up a bit.

We started to cross the road and Daddy came running.  We couldn’t move very fast since Heathrow was hurt, so we took our time.  Daddy, on the other hand, was rushing as quickly as he could.

All of a sudden, there was a loud noise, a roar of some kind, and a lot of light.  I heard Daddy scream and saw him burst into the road waving his hands.  But the sound came closer and I couldn’t watch Daddy anymore.  I had to see what was happening, what was coming toward us.

I looked down the road and the lights and roar came rushing at us.  It was closer to my brother, so I leaped over him and tried to protect him from the attacking monster.

I could hear Daddy’s wail as the brightness and noise finally reached where we stood.  My brother and I were both thrown into the darkness of dusk, and all I could remember, as the world washed away in blackness, was the sound of Daddy’s crying as he held us close.  At least I was with him and Heathrow.  That’s all I ever really wanted.

[this is an allegory about two cats with whom I previously shared a home]

Humor is the only test of gravity, and gravity of humor; for a subject which will not bear raillery is suspicious, and a jest which will not bear serious examination is false wit.

— Aristotle

Will you be part of the problem or part of the solution?

Thus by the virtue collected
Through all that I have done,
May the pain of every living creature
Be completely cleared away.

May I be the doctor and the medicine
And may I be the nurse
For all sick beings in the world
Until everyone is healed.

May a rain of food and drink descend
To clear away the pain of thirst and hunger
And during the aeon of famine
May I myself change into food and drink.

May I become an inexhaustible treasure
For those who are poor and destitute;
May I turn into all things they could need
And may these be placed close beside them.

There has been a lot of research into homosexuality of late, and not just in humans, all of which increasingly shows the trait to be biological—across hundreds of species studied thus far.  Now we have more research indicating homosexuality is not a choice:

WASHINGTON – Men who have several older brothers have an increased chance of being gay — whether they were raised together or not — a finding researchers say adds weight to the idea that sexual orientation is based in biology.

The increase was seen in men with older brothers from the same mother, but not those who had stepbrothers or adopted brothers who were older.

“It’s likely to be a prenatal effect,” said Anthony F. Bogaert of Brock University in St. Catharines, Canada, who did the research. “This and other studies suggest that there is probably a biological basis” for homosexuality.

One might assume the effect is environmental insomuch as the older brothers somehow influence the sexuality of the younger sibling.  One would be wrong in making such an assumption.

“Anybody’s first guess would have been that the older brothers were having an effect socially, but this data doesn’t support that,” [S. Marc Breedlove, a professor in the neuroscience and psychology department of Michigan State University,] said in a telephone interview.

The only link between the brothers is the mother and so the effect has to be through the mother, especially since stepbrothers didn’t have the effect, said Breedlove, who was not part of the research.

And just how many brothers does it take?

Bogaert said the increase can be detected with one older brother and becomes stronger with three or four or more.

There is apparently a near-factorial influence based on the number of elder brothers.

But is it safe to assume this indicates a biological function rather than some other influential input that is as yet unidentified?  Unless you’re a hating religious zealot who simply can not see beyond your own prejudice on the gay issue, therefore always willing to stand in the face of hard facts and deny they exist, it’s difficult based on these findings alone to argue with the premise that homosexuality is biological.  In fact, these results are difficult to argue with except when blinded by faith-based bigotry.

Bogaert said he concluded the effect was biological by comparing men with biological brothers to those with brothers to whom they were not biologically related.

The increase in the likelihood of being gay was seen only in those whose brothers had the same mothers, whether they were raised together or not, he said.

Men raised with several older step- or adopted brothers do not have an increased chance of being gay.

While the study can not account for the incidence of homosexuality in those without older male siblings, it does establish a biological influence for those borne of a mother who has already given birth to at least one other male.

The implications of this study are manyfold.  First and most important is the obvious: this clearly indicates a prenatal tendency based on the number of male siblings.  Similarly intriguing is that the tendency was not influenced by whether or not the children were raised together (which negates the idea of older male siblings somehow causing homosexuality in others, whether directly or indirectly).  The point that clarifies this as a biological function rather than environomental is that the same influence is not seen with regards to stepbrothers or adoptees (having several non-biological older brothers does not cause the same impact).  Since the influence only presents with offspring from the same mother, the tendency appears based on a prenatal function.

I guess this means the psychiatrists have been right all along.  You really can blame it all on your mother!