My Sister Eva May

Sibling's sense of independence offers vicarious thrills

(Published April 27, 2003, The News Tribune, Tacoma, Washington)

I've discovered the secret to world peace, and like all great things, it's nothing new. It's been said before in various tongues and in many different ways. Mine is just the latest iteration.

But timing's the key here, folks. And the telling. So read on.

My sister lives in paradise. She moved there five years ago in search of a new beginning. Armed with a graduate degree in museum studies and a decade of experience managing presidential palaces, she decided it was time to take her expertise to fresh territory.

She quit her job, kissed the family goodbye and traded our uncertain weather for the sunny skies and warm waters of Hawaii.

You're thinking that's a no-brainer. Show me Tacomans in their right minds who wouldn't jump at the chance to live where orchids, birds of paradise, hibiscus and ginger lily perfume the air.

I'm probably losing it, because you don't have to look farther than me. My roots in Tacoma are sunk deep, too entangled in memories to uproot easily. So I pass on Hawaii, thank you very much.

It's fascinating how different two people of the same flesh and blood can be. While I tenaciously hang on to everything I hold dear, my sister spreads her energies far and wide. She has friends everywhere; knows people in the strangest places and networks extensively with the famous and the not-so-famous.

There has never been a job good enough that she couldn't leave it for a better one; or a relationship so strong she couldn't break it. And so when she announced she was packing it and moving to Hawaii, you could say I was prepared for it.

This was not the first time she had packed up. In the past few years, my sister has left jobs I would have killed for. She has left relationships, friends and family - all in search of greener pastures and new beginnings. I watch her daring "rebirths" from the safety of my predictable life, always awed by her capacity for renewal.

My sister believes every crisis is a chance to spring forward, change course and start anew. It's a philosophy of life I don't normally subscribe to. I'm the solid, dependable, "Let's- consider-this-from-all-angles-before-we-jump" type of person. A crisis is a challenge, a test of endurance, a time to reassess strengths and weaknesses, to pause and regroup for the coming siege.

But there are times when my sister's philosophy of life is comforting. Her belief system allows limitless attempts at a second chance; nine lives factored to the nth degree. It has sustained her through periods of crushing disappointments and failed relationships. And each time, she has magically spun a new life from the pieces of the old one. It's a handy trick.

Once in a while I am tempted to try it myself. To pack and go, leave all the baggage behind, the mounting responsibilities, the ties that choke and bind, and just fly away. Just once I'd like to be able to shed the shell that's grown through the years, to slough it off and lay bare the person beneath. Or be a totally different person.

The possibilities are dizzying. Show me a working wife and mother who has not once thought of throwing in the towel and just walking away from it all.

But I don't care to take the risks, so I live my sister's life vicariously. Her stories of faraway places and interesting people, of dramas developing and conflicts resolved, add color and excitement to my life. I travel the highs and the lows with her, battle demons and conquer unbelievers, win hearts and break a few.

I like to think that my sister, too, takes away something from me that adds substance to her life - a sense of order and logic, of constancy and permanence; the value of perseverance; and never taking "no" for an answer.

And that's my point - we take a little bit from those around us to make us whole. We need others to learn from, to make us feel and look better, to complete our lives. It's the key to survival that's encoded in our system. If we're smart, the last thing we want to do is to annihilate other people, especially those most different from us.

That's my personal epiphany. I told you it wasn't new.

Back to my sister, I have a feeling she's ready for another leap. So I'm all psyched up for an exhilarating ride. Thing is, where do you go from paradise?


(Belma Villa of Tacoma is one of five reader guest columnists who write for the Perspectives page.)