MEG Resume and Preferences

I entered the world in Pontiac, Michigan, on February 26, 1983, christened Matthew Edward Guest, and the middle name is taken directly from my mother's slain brother, one of Eugene and Martha's four children, lost forever more than a quarter-century ago. My past residences in the United States include: Michigan, Pennsylvania, Maryland, Indiana, Kentucky, and Georgia. My past residences outside the United States include: Ploiesti and Bumbesti-Jiu, both of Romania. A brief visit to Canada in 1989 compromises my only other international travel.

My parents, Sara and David, raised three other children in addition to myself (Michael, Rachel, and Alex); I am the eldest, the birth years of my siblings, respectively, are 1985, 1987, and 1993.

My immediate relations consist of my one remaining grandparent (My father's father; his wife, and both of my mother's parents have passed away) who served in WWII in the U. S. Coast Guard, my great uncle (father's side) who served in the U. S. Marines in the Korean War. I have no other living relations of comparable age.

My mother's brother and my father both hold diplomas from the University of Toledo (OH), and each hold law degrees as well, my uncle's from Harvard Law School. My cousin, the eldest child of that uncle, holds an undergraduate degree from the University of Georgetown (Washington D. C.) and his younger brother is currently enrolled as an undergraduate at the University of Toledo. In addition, my father serves as a claims attorney for Fidelity and Deposit (MD) recently purchased by Zurich; my uncle achieved appointment to the bench as a bankruptcy judge in Michigan.

My sister and another cousin (this one the eldest of my mother's sister) are at present enrolled at the University of Toledo, also attended by my mother (before her subsequent graduation from Oakland University), accompanied by the aforementioned Georgetown graduate, studying at the law school.

My mother is a sales representative with a nationwide store chain, and her sister is a registered nurse. My father's sister, his senior by several years, lives and works in Ohio. Her only son finished medical school some time ago and continues as a practicing physician. His wife recently gave birth to a child, the first of a new generation.

My family carries a very proud history, some of it earned in times of crisis, all of it earned by hard work. My father, whatever our philosophical differences, remains the most honest and diligent person I've ever known, and has sacrificed so much for the well being of not only myself, but his wife and three other children as well.

My mother, brought forth by a remarkable woman I regrettably did not see reach my third birthday, gracefully exudes a compassion that is second to none, she too, knows the meaning of sacrifice, and her actions, not solely confined to her blood relations by any means, reflects immeasurably well on her personal character and dignity. My father and mother, two of the three most significant forces in my life, have supported me in all my endeavors, misbegotten or otherwise. They do all of this despite their eldest son's arguments that their work concluded five years ago.

Like many a youngster, I did not appreciate or adequately spend time with several relatives before they passed on, to include my great-grandfather (father's side) and especially my grandmother (mother's side). Yet, in just a few brief years I had the fortune of spending time with my father's mother, her mother, and my mother's father.

The latter, after nearly dying of heart failure in 1989, revived to give his family (and this writer especially) so much more in the last nine years of his life. As charismatic (and a hell of an athlete, earning a full scholarship to St. Louis University and competing in the 1948 Olympic Trials in diving) and as caring a fellow as one could ever hope to meet, this whip-smart engineer, assuredly battered and bruised by the premature loss of his wife and the far too premature loss of his son, embraced the responsibility of serving as the rock of the family, on my mother's side. He left us just at the close of the last century, around almost the same time as my great-grandmother, perhaps this writer's first true best friend.

No one was more classy or had a keener understanding of, well, people, than my father's grandmother. Her robust spirit, and years of swimming, carried her into her tenth decade much to the delight of not merely her contemporaries but also of ignorant and naive children, who often don't know how fortunate they are to spend time with the last person of an aging generation.

I saved my father's mother for last; she was an exceptionally private person, in some respects quite unlike her mother, but she knew pain and coped with pain to a degree I don't want to fathom for the last few years of her life... and all with a quiet acceptance in the presence of children. Perhaps not surprisingly, she formed the strongest bond with my brother, the middle of the three, if I could, I would ask him about her, but wishes do not change reality. Even so, she and her husband, who recently swept past eighty; thoroughly enjoyed their roles as grandparents and took immense pride in the accomplishments of their son and daughter. All three, slipped out of our reach at almost the same time, much as my mother's mother and my father's grandfather did twelve years earlier... yet, we believe all went to a better place, none more so than my father's mother, no longer in pain.

My sister is an exceptionally talented performer whose credits include playing the title role in a small-stage production of Annie, and taking part in other extracurricular activities too numerous to name here. At present, she learns at the University of Toledo, in many respects maintaining the family legacy. Her future is bright and for that her family is most proud, in whatever credible path she chooses.

I turn now to my youngest brother, by far the most volatile and tempestuous of the lot; his ambition, I conjecture, is very nearly the equal of mine, if on a different plane. His education has only begun, but he has already shown the shades of a real achiever, when and if he puts his mind to it; sounds all too familiar to this observer. Whether the last legacy of Sara and David becomes that archaeologist or even, with a push from his eldest brother, seriously considers the dramatic arts, is unknown. Yet, he is blessed with an extraordinary reservoir of assistance and support; a principal advantage, to my mind, of being the youngest.

I have of course saved my other brother, the middle of the three (and once the middle child) for last. Unless I am to one day successfully marry, it is doubtful I will never spend as much time with one individual as I did with one whom my mother calls Miguel we roomed together for the better part of seven years (to the immature, at times seven long years). From the day of his birth, he has been different if not singularly unique to my experience. Some possessing autism are wholly nonverbal characters, who spent their days staring at the proverbial wall.

Thankfully, he is not.

Some possessing autism have only the slightest tinge of non-normalcy, and no one, excepting family and close friends, is the wiser. My brother, if you pardon my unscientific opinion, resides in the middle. I believe he doesn't know it all, but he knows enough. He knows enough to understand that he's not following the same path as his older brother and even his younger sister; he does not own a driver's license and, a bigger deal, may not be fit for an institution of higher learning despite his deep desires.

Years ago, it seemed far simpler to him; his brother (later his second brother) and sister did the same things he did, almost without exception, as birthdays, holidays, vacations, and travel (arguably his four favorite things) easily meshed to form the coherent narrative of a happy childhood. The 90s, therefore, reign as king in his mind; a time when matters made sense. True, we attended different elementary schools (but rode the same bus) and he finished at the same high school as the rest, yet in just a few short years, a different environment took hold.

He enjoys the past (as evidenced by his taste in past game shows, look closely and discover the years 1994, 1995, etc at the close of each program; many of these shows we watched together at the time) if not outright longing for it. For my parents, the twenties promise to be a supreme challenge, in somehow allowing him to relax in an earlier world while gently prodding him toward a quasi-independent existence, i.e. obtaining a paying job.

In yet another of history's ironies, his initial job matched mine; his task was once offered to me. I can recall performing the job once, in dreadful weather, repeatedly glancing at my timepiece and wondering when the clock would grant me salvation. It is a most mundane task; I performed it once, begrudgingly. Yet, for all his hopes and dreams of something more than moving shopping carts a few hundred feet for seven hours at a clip; he does it, and without complaint. He is a very diligent worker once he settles on a pattern. Perhaps you'll forgive me for commenting liberally on my brother, but I feel that I know him the best, not merely because I roomed with him after we learned of our mother's last pregnancy.

Given the events of a single spring, I can empathize, if only just a trifle. I entered Ft. Benning, GA, with the rest of my Infantry brothers, together we were to become soldiers, yet, a significant injury on my seventh day, coupled with an ill-fated recovery attempt and an abject loss of confidence (buttressed by weakened reflexes) corroded my brief tenure in the Armed Forces. While my fellow trainees rapidly morphed into full-fledged combat soldiers, I remained adrift, an unspoken individual, an awful civie-soldier hybrid. On a warm June morning, nearly five dozen, some almost unrecognizable from three months ago, confidently strolled out of the base whereas I remained.

Now, I could and ultimately chose to leave the Army; my brother does not have that choice with his life. His on-again off-again communication skills preclude close friendships, he even has trouble speaking with his family on occasion. I try, and do my best, to communicate with him, taking pleasure in just listening to him talk as we drove to his workplace. Too often, he remains silent, and that's a shame if reluctantly understood.

I hope the reader has enjoyed this brief window into my lineage as much as I have producing for consumption and digestion.