Being the oldest of five siblings meant that, growing up, there were endless opportunities to tease my brothers and sisters. This, of course, was always done with their best interest in mind, and in order to help with their character development. Virtues such as patience, endurance, and long suffering were all carefully cultivated. My youngest brother, Dougie, was a prime target. He spent a good share of his childhood dangling with the back of his shirt hooked over a doorknob and with his toes just brushing the floor. A few times, I even managed to stuff enough coat hangers into his shirt to hang him in the closet. This had the added benefit of giving the next person to open the closet a terrible fright, thus developing their character as well. Unfortunately, Dougie soon grew too big for such tricks. And even more unfortunate, he continued growing until, by twelve years of age, he was shaving, well over 6 feet tall, and much more muscular than any normal 12-year-old should be. At this point, Dougie began to help me with my own character development. But that’s another story.

Closely monitoring five young maniacs was difficult, so our parents mostly put up with our shenanigans as long as no stitches were required or bones were broken. There was also the added fact that our family had a twisted sense of humor. The general policy was, “It’s all fun and games until somebody gets hurt, and then it’s hilarious.” Family members tripping, crashing, or unexpectedly falling off of things provided us all with endless entertainment. Sometimes, we did cross a line, though. For example, I severely set back Dougie’s potty training by convincing him that a large snake lived in the hole at the bottom of the toilet. After several months of Dougie screaming and fighting for dear life anytime someone tried to place him on a toilet, the story finally came out. My mother made it very clear to me that she did not appreciate this little joke. Like Dougie, it was a long while before I felt like sitting down –only in my case, sitting on any surface was a problem.

Dougie was the youngest, but I also had a middle brother – Lukas Von Dukas, as I referred to him. Unlike Dougie, Luke was vertically challenged. Growing up, he always appeared far younger than his actual age. He made up for this, though, with amazing athletic abilities and an indomitable spirit. When he was twelve, he still looked like he was six. That year, after spending a day at our local ski resort, he came home with a pair of fancy new skis. He proudly announced they were given to him as a prize for winning the Big Air Ski Jumping Competition, which he had won with a double back flip. No doubt the judges were impressed when someone who looked like he should be in the Tiny Tots Intro Ski Class proceeded to launch himself into the stratosphere and perform aerial acrobatics.

Being fearless meant that Luke’s character development was a bit trickier for me. But I was skillful, and there were a wide variety of techniques within my repertoire. For example, we shared a bunk bed and neither of us wanted to be the one who got up to shut out the lights at night. I managed to take care of this problem by telling Luke that I’d give him a dollar if he could turn off the light switch and then get into bed before the light actually went out. For several years, Luke did his best to earn a dollar. Thankfully, even though Luke was a natural athlete, with the speed of light being 186,000 miles per second, I figured my money was safe. Years later, Luke enrolled in college physics before going to dentistry school. I’ve always wondered what he thought when he finally learned just how poor his chances were of slipping beneath the sheets before the lights went out. The professor must have wondered why the quiet young man in the back always looked furious whenever someone mentioned the speed of light.

But the truth is, no one is completely fearless, and even courageous Lukas Von Dukas had his deep, dark, secret, inner fears. Those are the best kind. As a caring older brother, I had a natural instinct for quickly identifying these particular fears and using them to their fullest advantage – for character development, that is. Early on, I discovered that one of Luke’s secret fears was bears, or arcotophobia, for those who favor the technical term. 

 Growing up in rural, North Idaho meant that there were actual bears around. Conceivably, a person might encounter a large, hungry bear in the woods at any time. “And these bears,” I explained, as we lay in bed after the lights were out, “especially enjoyed munching on young, blond boys with curly hair. Short ones. No one knows why, it’s just one of those strange facts of nature.”

“Wait a minute, Luke,” I concluded with sudden surprise and alarm in my voice. “That sounds an awful lot like you! You’d better be careful.” Then, after letting a few minutes of anticipatory silence fill the dark room, I would begin to ever so softly make bear noises. My mother always wondered why Luke often got up to change his underwear at night before going to sleep. The truth was, this was an important part of his character development.

But unfortunately, a basic fact of psychology is that, with repeated exposure, people can be desensitized to their fears. Plus, Luke was brave. All too quickly he managed to steel himself against the threat of bears. Most troublesomely, he even went so far as to begin scoffing at my attempts to tease him. This was very annoying. But being the wise, older brother that I was, I could still sense that, deep down, his fear of bears still lurked – or shall we say, hibernated. And wisely, I knew what was needed was to wait for the right moment to, so to speak, poke the bear.  

One of my best friends was named Kent. His father, Gary, was a logger who was a man’s man. He could outwork anyone and was as tough as nails. I suspected he even slept on nails and probably ate them for dinner too. He, like me, also happened to have a penchant for practical jokes as well as an interest in character development. He was, in fact, a master of these arts – someone who made my own skills look amateur. Our families would often spend the day socializing. On one of these visits at Kent’s house, we had just finished dinner and were all sitting in the living room talking as we contentedly digested our meal.

For a bit of after-dinner entertainment, I made a brief, half-hearted attempt at teasing Luke. Bears were mentioned. Unfortunately, Luke was now almost totally impervious. Instead of reacting the way I had hoped, he stood in the middle of the living room and began to boast about what he would do if he ever encountered a bear. This was disappointing to say the least. No, Luke insisted, he was not afraid of bears; it was the bears who should be afraid of him. He then began a long speech detailing exactly what he would do if a bear ever crossed his path. A small boy doing things like that to a full-grown bear seemed improbable, but Luke was convinced he could handle such a situation. Or at least that’s how he talked.

Meanwhile, Gary sat in his armchair calmly snacking on a few after-dinner nails. As he listened, a glint came into his eyes. He quietly left the room. In reality, if Luke ever encountered a bear, he would probably hardly count as a snack. Gary, however, might very well do to a bear some of the things Luke was describing. In fact, unbeknownst to us, he actually had. Years ago, as a young man logging in Alaska, he’d killed a grizzly. He’d probably killed it using only his hands and his teeth. I felt bad for the poor creature. It never had a chance in such a mismatched fight. It seemed unsportsmanlike. Gary should have at least had one arm tied behind his back or been muzzled. The hulking creature had then been turned into a rug complete with claws; an open jaw filled with long, yellow teeth; and gleaming glass eyes. It still looked life-like.

The bear skin rug must have been retrieved from a closet somewhere, and part-way through Luke’s oration, Gary crawled into the room with it draped over him. We could all see him as he crawled slowly towards Luke – everyone, that is, except for Luke himself. We waited collectively, with bated breath, to see what would happen next. Meanwhile, Luke’s speech reached its climatic conclusion. “And that is what I would do to a bear if one of them ever gets anywhere close to me,” he ended emphatically. Silence hung over the room.

Gary chose this particular moment to let out a deep, guttural growl. In an instant, Luke became aware that something had crept up behind him: something that everyone was staring at. He spun around and found himself face to face with a massive grizzly with its gaping jaws hanging open. Here was a perfect opportunity for Luke to demonstrate what he had been describing only a moment before. This, however, was not what he did.

When Luke found himself face to face with a bear, deeply repressed fears suddenly came rushing to the surface. His blond curls stood straight up, and his eyes grew as large as dinner plates. This was several years before he won the ski jumping competition, but he had always been athletically gifted, and he now demonstrated some of his abilities. To our utter amazement, Lukas Von Dukas levitated. I had not thought this was humanly possible, but he proved me wrong. Once airborne, he cleared a couch that was taller than he was, and then, at what was undoubtedly approaching lightspeed, he vanished down the hallway.   

This was entertainment of the highest quality. Luke’s performance was magnificent and universally appreciated. An hour or two later, someone finally managed to find and retrieve him from his hiding spot. Luke was a few shades paler than before, but otherwise, none the worse for wear. After this event, I soon discovered that Luke had completely overcome his fear of bears. It’d been scared right out of him, I suppose.

But thankfully, all was not lost. Over the years, I found many other ways to help with Luke, Dougie, and my other siblings’ character development. And each of them has long since grown into psychologically stable and professionally accomplished adults.  No doubt their success is a direct result of my dedication. That is, after all, what big brothers are for.

Thorsen Haugen is a Head & Neck surgeon by day and a writer by night. Blood and ink are the two mediums with which he is most familiar. He lives in Pennsylvania with his soulmate, Krimzen, and their son, Kallan.