My Brother, the Scholar

Saturday mornings at our house are usually filled with sticky faces and irritated playful squeals with the clamor of cartoons (just to secure that there’s never a moment of dead air) in the background.  Last Saturday, I was privy to a completely different scene.  My brother, Nathan, was in town to speak at a Sixteenth century conference in Fort Worth, and my Dad and I were able to tag along with him and attend his lecture.   We arrived a little early, so we had time to grab a cup coffee and muffin in the commons room where book displays, organic chamomile tea, hushed conversation, and corduroy blazers dominated the scene.  I imagine the participants were probably discussing tree planting techniques in early Babylonia, the origins of the celebratory Cornish game hen in Medieval England, or topics of that nature. A Google search for an answer to a question would definitely not satisfy this crowd! 
When the time came for Nathan to take to the podium, I saw the little brother whom I giggled with over juvenile jokes, shared exciting visits from Santa Clause, and fought with over elbow space in the back seat of my parents’ car transform into Dr. Nathan Martin, history scholar and expert.  And I was so proud of him.  So much so that I should have scrapped stroganoff and made Cornish game hens for everyone on Saturday night to celebrate.

On a side note, this dad of mine stayed true to form all morning…loitering at the display tables, munching on chocolate,  and unwrapping mints with sticky fingers during Nathan’s lecture.  There is clearly no shame in his game.  One of the many things I love about my Dad!