The Olden Days Continued

When my parents got married, things were rough.  They came from two different worlds and two different religions.  He had just buried his young wife, and she had just gotten out of an abusive marriage which was annulled  (I always wonder about annulments- do those people REALLY believe that "it never happened"?  More likely they can just deny it and pretend it never happened...)  They met when they were both teaching English as a second language to foreigners...so they had THAT in common.  I guess they were just two broken souls, seeking solace in each other.  My mother came from a big Italian family, and they were very welcoming to my father. My father came from a small Jewish family, and they were for the most part, very UNwelcoming to my mother.  But marry they did,  and in spite of the fact that my mother promised she was not going to have kids, when her sisters all started having babies, she took back her promise.  She pouted, and cried, until my father gave in, saying, "I'm too old to take care of babies" (he was 45, but had many medical problems).  He told her that the burden of taking care of these kids was going to fall mostly on her.  She agreed.  They had my brother, and then me, 22 months apart.  They already had the two (now older---8 & 13 year olds) from my father's first marriage, but by all accounts, they didn't really consider them "their kids"....those older kids were dragged around from relative to relative, and were pushed out of the spotlight by the two new babies.  Parents of that generation for the most part believed that they were good parents if they fed you and put a roof over your head: there was none of this "anticipating my children's needs" or "providing emotional stability" for the kids.  Knowing how my parents were when I was growing up, I can only imaging how they were to these two "leftover" kids.  The good news is that I am close with my older half-siblings.  Although we actually are from different generations, I adore them, and we have a shared history and a lot in common that I can't say I have with anyone else.  We speak regularly although we live on different coasts, and we are genuinely happy when our families spend time together.  The story of what happened with my parents, my "real" (if we must call it that) brother, and me-----not such good news.