I have three nephews who are seniors in high school this year.
There’s Dandy Andy, gorgeous, charismatic and the spitting image of his beautiful mother, right down to the thick blond mane of hair he sports like a boss. Andy is a champion diver. I’ve seen him at work and he’s a sight to behold. I won’t be betting against him in the state diving championships.
There’s Finbar, gorgeous, charming and incredibly talented musically. To hear Finnie sing and play, you have no choice but to accept that the world is not fair; some people really do have it all.
Then there’s Charles W. Hubbell III.
The name sounds a bit pretentious. When his third son was born, Joe named him after our oldest brother, who was named for Dad’s older brother and was going to call him ‘Three’ but the older kids wouldn’t bite so Hootie Thunder’s younger bro is called Woody.
Woody comes from a family of athletic stand outs. Hootie lit up the STA scoreboards a few years back and got some media attention because announcers loved screaming “Hooootie Huuuubbellllllll!”
Upon discovering that Hootie was his nephew, one of Jay’s coworkers asked “What’s his real name?”
Jay leaned in close and whispered conspiratorially “His real name is; Hootie.”
Between Hootie and Woody is Martha, whose running career litters the record books at Vis and is currently tearing up the countryside for the university that wooed and won her. Older brother and sister were also stellar athletes and Jay is convinced that youngest sibling will be unbeatable on the golf course long before he graduates from high school but when asked who is the best athlete in the family, the answer you get from her siblings is “Martha” with an unspoken ‘duh’ at the end of it.
That may change in the next few weeks.
I’ve always thought of Woody as a quiet, serious kid. I don’t know him very well, I only see him when there’s a very large crowd of kids. About ten years ago, he and I shared a water bike for a half an hour. He only spoke twice during the entire ride.
Once was when I asked him if he was going to eat the pack of Oreos he’d gotten at the concession stand.
“I’m saving it for later.” He told me. We paddled around the lake for a half hour in silence, then headed back to the dock where he spotted his two older brothers, waiting.
“It’s later.” He said, and wolfed down the cookies while still out of reach.
I always admired him for that.
Now, Andy has three older brothers who are also blond, gorgeous and brilliant but their talents lie in fields far from the aerial domes of diving. He’s also much more outgoing than even his guitar hero brothers, so there was never any fear of living in anyone’s shadow.
Finbar has sisters but no brothers so he’s always been his own man.
Woody is the fifth child, third brother in a family whom the fairies blessed with looks, talent, charm, brains and ability. Even if he’d only had to contend with one older brother, when that brother is Hootie, it would have been difficult; same school, both boys look alike and play the same sports.
So what do you do when you’re Woody?
You obliterate your brother’s memory.
Three games into the football season, Woody has scored nine touch downs for his team.
Nine.
Jay, Ty, my parents and I all went to see last night’s game. Woody had scored three in his season opener and two last week. We screamed ourselves hoarse last night, cheering him on as he scored four more.
The first was a breakaway run. I knew that Hootie was fast and of course Martha is a phenom but my jaw still hit the bleachers when I saw how easy Woody made it look to burn past the other team. Maybe Simley is a very slow but I have a hard time imagining anyone catching Woody once he finds open field. Another TD, Woody leapt four feet off the ground to nab the ball out of the air in the end zone.
Woody lives in no man’s shadow.
Oh, I should mention that all three of the nephews are straight A students.
It’s kind of ridiculous.