"ABC": A Narrative on Brotherhood

We were headed to the Winco grocery store on one of our bi-weekly morning shopping trips. Mom always listened to her iPod in the car. She never hit shuffle, which made the songs she chose to play on our adventures truly special. 

As we made our way through the mundane, these songs began to stick to me in different ways.

They started out as little earworms, like the piano licks at the end of each verse in “Sweet Home Alabama.” 

Somewhere between the age of 4 and 5, The Jackson 5’s classic single “ABC” was an early hyper-fixation of mine.

Even the album cover, which really didn’t have much going on visually and by all accounts, is quite boring to look at– kept my attention. 

Apart from the deep indigo background, playful choice of font, and even the band as they stood collectively, what truly stood out to me was the undeniable presence of a then-young Michael Jackson. He was the music, in all parts and in essence, and he stood at the forefront of it all. 

As the youngest in my own family, I saw a piece of myself in him, and true to my human nature, soon threw the Second Commandment to the wind, and idolized him.

What ensued next was the fedoras, bedazzled gloves, and yes, the hee-hee’s.

Once I gained access to the family computer and discovered the World Wide Web, the limitless possibilities unlocked at my fingertips shocked my obsession into overdrive.

It didn’t really blow my mind, it simply captured my attention entirely and instantaneously. 

Typing “MJ” into the search bar was about all I was capable of spelling at the time, but it certainly did the trick. 

Of course, I watched performances from The Jackson 5, but my only means of searching for them was by going down the “MJ rabbit hole” so to speak. 

This, undoubtedly, was a band of brothers, and they looked as brothers ought to look.

They wore similar hairstyles, sporting afros, half-ros, and hell, even shag-fros.

Truly a sight to behold.

What became apparent as I tagged along on more shopping trips, and listened to “ABC” probably a thousand more times, was far from limited to the concept of brotherhood. It didn’t end with thoughts of The Jackson 5, or their inherent radness.

This was something deeper, and thinking about it made me kind of really sad. 

Part of me connected with the sense of brotherhood that The Jackson 5 conveyed, the way their eyes met across the stage as they were getting down, the finesse they seemed to collectively radiate- it was like they were all one unit. 

I began comparing my own very limited experiences in regards to brotherhood to theirs, and found myself with a certain emptiness. There was a lot to look up to, albeit for all the wrong reasons. 

My brother and I were not a unit. At this point in our lives, we had absolutely nothing in common, and I wanted that to change after seeing the Jackson brothers do their thing.

I didn’t know it then, but I was learning how to be a part of a family. It was a long process, and I was only starting to gain consciousness, but upon the realization I’ve been aware of this process ever since. And it all went back to the music. 

Because we came from different places, different mothers, were born into different circumstances, we tussled. A lot. 

Growing up with Jared was, if anything, combative.   

What we had wasn’t a rivalry.  I didn’t wanna play that way, so I decided to play along.  He always listened to angry music. Three Days Grace, Linkin Park, Breaking Benjamin. He was the epitome of “older brother core.” He liked that stuff, so I tried to like that stuff, and surprisingly it actually worked out for me. It wasn’t exactly funky, but this sound was something I could get behind.

Suddenly, we didn’t have to be anything like the Jackson 5.  And why would I want to be? 

Linkin Park was way cooler, and so was Jared. Much like many hyperfixations of mine, the Jackson 5 faded from the forefront of my existence, and escaped my mind just like that, soon losing my interest upon turning 6. 

I pivoted towards video games, after Jared gave me his hand-me-down flame-red Gameboy Advance SP as a birthday gift. From there I graduated to the DS, and eventually commandeered Mom's old laptop, opening my eyes to the world of multiplayer gaming.

Over the years, I assumed the role of player two. My weapon; certainly not of choice- was the second-rate controller with the sticky X button.

We started playing Halo together, which our parents were not fond of. Next came Call of Duty Black Ops 2, which they hated. The foot came down, and we weren't allowed to play those games anymore.

Just in luck for us, They had no qualms toward Minecraft, so we settled on playing that instead. Just the two of us together as one unit, player one, and player two. Older brother, and younger brother. Jared and Marshall. 

Last Friday, Jared invited me to watch “A Minecraft Movie” at The Pix Theatre in downtown Albany. Was it a movie we wanted to see? Not really, but it felt like a full-circle moment for us. I picked him up, and we made our way to the theater. 

When we arrived, however, we saw posted at eye level roughly six-and-a-half inches tall the words “Sold Out!" With no plan B, we made our way back home. We were disappointed, yes, but we shared that disappointment together, as brothers. 

Part of me knows with certainty beyond shadow of a doubt that in that moment we looked as brothers ought to look.