I don’t know where to begin. Should I state that I am adopted or should I state that I am disabled? Does it really all matter?
This past October my oldest brother, Charlie, finally married his sweetheart of more than eleven years. My youngest brother, Brian, and I were his groomsmen.
The picture above is a rarity due to the fact that all three of us are scattered in three different states. I am in Miami, Florida with my lovely Nathasha. Charlie is a hard core New Yorker working as a rehab counselor. Brian is a converted down home country boy of Tennessee who transports Miller beer. Our occupations give us little if any time to have family reunions so this wedding was extra special.
I won’t lie to say that we are this extremely close knit Brady Bunch family because we are not. But, we are a very unique one. Charlie and I are adopted. That in itself makes us special. We were wanted. What greater act of love than to take in a child belonging to another set of DNA? And even greater act to do it three more times. Our parents adopted Mary and soon Brittney will be a Mignogna as well.
Although I don’t always tell them, I am very grateful for my brothers. We don’t talk or see each other as much as I would like but I can appreciate the moments that we have had together. Whether it is my brother Charlie adapting sport activities like baseball or football so that I, as a youngster, could play. For example, he played outfield while I self hit a tennis ball with a wiffleball bat and I was the quarterback who threw the ball according to his preset game plan. He even rode across country roundtrip on a bus to accompany me back home after my graduation from Musician’s Institute.
My brother, Brian has done his share of brotherly love. He took time off from work to deliver some of my belongings to Miami and has made me laugh so hard that my sides have hurt. He knows how to lighten up the atmosphere when the tension is thick. He is the only one of us who shares the same blood as our parents yet he never made any of us feel the difference.
It had been five years since all three of us were together. We were like familiar strangers wanting to share but hesitant to share too much during such a joyous occassion. Despite the fact that technology makes communicating easier, time is something that is a rare commodity. That is not to excuse our lack of involvement in each other’s lives but a wall that must be broken down. Either way, I don’t want my brothers to ever think for a second that number one, they go unnoticed and number two, I am unappreciate for everythingl they have done. I would rather have these memories however, infrequent they may be, than to have no memories at all.