Born First

Children sometimes have a problem their parents don’t see or can’t solve.  It is a fortunate child who has a stepdad like Chuck.


It’s all about a stupid chair

and nothing more.

I think it isn’t fair

my brother sitting there

when I’m the one it’s for!


It is a special chair

all soft and cushiony

and close to the TV.

And I’m a special guy,

the oldest brother in the family!


I tried to tell my mom and dad

that they should love and cherish me

and make my brothers leave that chair

always every time for me.

They did not agree.


Mom said, “He was there first

sitting in that chair.”

She said my brothers, too,

are each significant and rare.

I didn’t care.


My dad said, Just don’t start!”

He said,  “Now, have a heart.”

My turn would be tomorrow night

if tonight I didn’t start a fight.

But waiting was too hard for me.


I said, “Don’t give my brothers turns!”

‘Cause sometimes I forget

about my own significance.

I just can’t miss one single chance

to test your attitude and stance.


On justice I insist.

Give all your love to me.

Each day make every gesture show

a strong partiality ’cause every hour

I need to know youre not discounting me.


Of love there’s never too much proof.

At night I’m still in doubt.

Until my little brothers came

I was the star of every game.

Now I’m the one left out.


The row I made about that chair!

Now all week I can’t sit there.

Which only shows I’m onto them.

They love my brothers best.

It isn’t fair.



The row I made about that chair

Was not the end of it.  My dad,

He really is my stepdad, see,

I usually call him Chuck,

agreed with me.  Was I in luck!


A first born son needs, he said,

A chair quite soft and cushiony

And close enough to watch TV

To keep his special place all safe

Inside a busy family.


He took me shopping at the mall,

Where you can hope for anything.

And then like Watson, that was Chuck,

And Sherlock, that was me,

We snooped around for clues.


We took our time, we tried three stores

And then I found a beanbag soft and

Velvety in blues.  It wriggles up,

It lounges back, I drag it anywhere.

I don’t need the other chair.


I’m easy when my brothers ask for turns.

As Chuck explained, a first born son

Can share a lot and keep his place.

And that’s the whole story.

Author: Patricia Mitchell Lapidus

Anyone may walk down the road wondering who we are, how we are supposed to live, and what happens when we die. Some folks like traditional answers. Some folks don't want to spent their time thinking too much. I felt called upon to search these questions in depth and in some surprising places. Each of my books is a story or group of stories about what I found during a wide-ranging journey. My home state of Maine was a hard place to leave. But I knew I had to go. And if I didn't make it back home to Maine except to visit, I did find home in the comfort and joy of discoveries that washed away the pain that had started me on my travels.

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