Both of my brothers teased me. It was the inevitable result of being the youngest member of the family and, of course, the least educated and self-sufficient of the entire group. They were not ruthless in their teasing; they never insulted my intelligence, only my ignorance, which was not as serious since ignorance could be reversed in due time. I felt transparent; they seemed to know what would bother me, from my petty insecurities to faulty rationalization. I well remember the family excursions, in which I generally sat in the back seat between Norm and Todd. Like clock work, they would serenade to me in unison, "Souvenir, bathroom, bottle-of-pop" while we drove past the flat and blistering hot corn fields toward our destination, claiming that these were my three favorite aspects of the summer vacation; I would seethe and boil, but could do nothing, as I fully realized that they were probably right. They would also grab Coors Bear, and, holding him at an arm's length out of the window while traveling 70 miles per hour, threaten to throw him into the fields. I panicked at the possibility, my eyes fixed on the battered bear as the wind fiercely buffeted its floppy arms and legs. The bear was always hoisted back into the car after an ample display of hostility from me and never suffered the cruel injustice. (Coors bear was eventually disposed of in the garbage can, a more humiliating, but less violent, retirement.) Norm especially loved to tease and mock my childish idiosyncrasies; he derived immense satisfaction from quizzing me, and because he used words which were far beyond my capacity to understand, smiled uncontrollably at my frustration. He always called me "illiterate," and while I had no conception of the word's meaning, I knew it was something which I did not want to have as a permanent attribute. Norm also enjoyed pelting me with the arsenal of pillows which the basement couch housed. As he fired away, making direct hits with each pillow I would gather the pillows and try, in vain, to throw one in his general vicinity. I rarely made contact with his body, let alone his head, as I hurled pillow after pillow at my assailant, only to be blasted again in rapid succession after he picked up my futile scattering of pillows from the floor and behind the couch. Finally, I would intentionally spill all of the pillows on the floor in front of me in overt exasperation and yell "The end!" I wanted no further conflict. After several such instances, he decided to mock my ultimate reaction to bombardments and he himself threw all of the pillows on the floor with an accompanying, "The end!" He then looked at me with one raised eyebrow until he received his reward; a screech of anger.