by Richard Hauser

I never liked being the eldest in the family. Things were tougher for me than for my siblings. It probably started before I was born. Parents have such high hopes of their first child. They noted how quickly I learned to sit, to crawl, to walk, to toilet-train, to speak, to read. They kept it in a book which they gave me when I grew up. They did not do this for the others, just for me.

I have a younger brother and sister. You’d think they would have taken some of the attention away from me. They did, but none of the expectations. It seemed to me that my siblings got all the affection and indulgence, while I was expected to rock the pram, play silly games, keep an eye on their antics, stop the fights, read them a story.

When my brother’s report card had ticks in the wrong boxes it didn’t get a mention. I had the high marks, but was urged to keep trying harder. When my sister was frightened of the dark she was allowed to crawl into our parents’ bed. When I was her age I’d never let on that I was scared because they kept telling me what a brave little man I was.

As we grew up nothing changed. Whatever success I had, they always encouraged me to do better. I had to go through university, while my brother was allowed to do an apprenticeship. They gave my sister an overseas trip for her twenty-first. At the same age I’d been starting my second degree. When my parents got old I was the one they looked to for help. And when they died I had to do the paper work.

Life is unfair. It’s geared in the wrong way. The greater the responsibility you take, the harder you work, the more success you have, the more everyone wants you to contribute. Not only do I pay my own way, but also my taxes support those who can’t seem to hold down a job. Now we’re supposed to take responsibility for the world’s pollution. And the refugees. And there are always those suffering Africans whose governments can’t look after them, so we have to.

Even at our church it’s the same. A dozen families make all the contributions, keep the budget in the black, run the committees, do the cleaning and maintenance. The rest are happy to tag along and turn up when they haven’t got something else on. And our pastor puts all his time into looking after them, the emergency cases, the people with hard-luck stories. He hasn’t been to visit me for a year.

When I mention to our pastor how lopsided life is, he gives me a big smile, pats me on the arm and says, ‘God has given you and me everything. Probably because we know how to share it around.’

That really gets under my skin.

Dr Richard Hauser, now retired, was a teacher and headmaster in Lutheran schools for his entire working life. He lives with his wife Silvija on Queensland’s Sunshine Coast.