The Birth Order Book (3 page)

It should be noted, however, that not all comics are pure lastborns. While Steve Martin is the baby of his family, he has an older sister, which makes him the firstborn son. Bill Cosby, one of the great comedians of all time, is a firstborn. He holds a doctorate degree and is a perfectionist. He gave all of his children names beginning with “E”—to remind them to always seek excellence.

Other firstborn entertainers and actors include Harrison Ford, Matthew Perry, Jennifer Aniston, Angelina Jolie, Brad Pitt, Chuck Norris, Sylvester Stallone, Reese Witherspoon, and Ben Affleck.

Only children who are well known for their dramatic, and sometimes comedic, roles include Robert DeNiro, Laurence Fishburne, Anthony Hopkins, James Earl Jones, Tommy Lee Jones, William Shatner, and Robin Williams.

Newscasters and talk-show hosts on television are often firstborns and only children. While on a tour of thirty-one cities, I did a little survey and learned that out of ninety-two talk-show hosts, only five were not firstborns or onlies. Just a few of the more well-known firstborn talk-show personalities are Oprah Winfrey (who was also nominated for an Academy Award in her first movie,
The Color Purple
); Bill O’Riley; Charles Gibson (the youngest in his family, but trust me, he functions more as a firstborn—more about that later); Geraldo Rivera; and the spokesman for excellence in broadcasting himself, Rush Limbaugh.

The Leman Tribe

In many families the three birth order positions—firstborn, middleborn, and lastborn—are played out in more or less classic style. The family I grew up in is a good example. Let me introduce you to them. My parents, John and May Leman, had three children:

Sally—firstborn

John Jr. (Jack)—middle child (firstborn son), born three years later

Kevin (Cub)—baby of the family, born five years after Jack

Sally, eight years my senior, is a classic firstborn who lives in a small town in western New York. Because we have our own summer place on a lake nearby, we all get to drop in at her immaculate home from time to time every summer vacation. The first thing we notice when we come through Sally’s front door is the clear vinyl runner leading to every room in the house. We get the message:
thou shalt not walk on the blue carpet except when absolutely necessary
.

To say Sally is neat as a pin doesn’t quite begin to tell the story. I suspect that from time to time she irons her welcome mat! Perhaps you use those garbage bags that have draw-strings? Sally does too, and she ties bows on hers. I’ve even caught her straightening up the brochures in a bank lobby while she awaited her turn. (No kidding.)

In short, whatever Sally does, she does it classy and she does it right. All her life she has been confident, creative, artistic, scholarly, and well liked. She was a cheerleader in high school and a National Honor Society type. She became a home economics teacher and a preschool director, and she’s even written two books.
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No one in the Leman clan can forget the time we all went camping high in the Sierra Nevadas. After a terrific day in the great out-of-doors, we were all ready to hop into our sleeping bags. Because at eight or nine thousand feet it gets rather nippy at night, even in the summer, most of us planned to sleep in our clothes. Not Sally. When she came out of her tent to say good night, she was attired in her usual classy nightie. She couldn’t figure out why that was so funny to the rest of us. That’s Sally. Why not add a little class to the campsite too?

But being perfect at what you do can have its drawbacks as well. Sally has butterflies at least two days before giving a small dinner party. Bigger dinner parties cause butterflies for a week or ten days. Naturally everything must be color coordinated: the napkins match the napkin holders, which match the decor of the formal dining room, which match . . . well, you get the idea. I’m convinced that if my sister had the opportunity, she’d put newspaper under the cuckoo clock—just in case.

Once when I was the keynote speaker at a conference and Sally was doing a workshop at the same conference, we had breakfast together at 9:05.

“So, Kevin,” she said, “what are you speaking about?”

I sipped my coffee casually. “I haven’t decided yet.”

She gasped. “What do you mean? You must know what you’re speaking about. You’re going to be speaking in 55 minutes!”

“Well, I’ll look at the people and then I’ll decide.”

She winced. “You’re making my stomach turn.”

If you’re a firstborn, you can identify with my big sister right now, because there’s not a firstborn on earth who gets up and wings it. Firstborns are prepared, organized, and ready to get things done. But if you’re a baby? You’re saying, “Way to go, Dr. Leman. Just roll with the punches.”

I’m convinced that if my sister had the opportunity, she’d put newspaper under the cuckoo clock.

So first in our family was Sally, the perfectionist.

Born second in our family was my brother, Jack. Typical of a lot of middle children, his precise personality traits are a bit more difficult to pin down. But secondborn children are known for going in exactly the opposite direction from the firstborn in the family. Typically the middle child is a mediator and a negotiator who avoids conflict. He can be a real paradox—independent but extremely loyal to his peer group. He can be a maverick with many friends. He is usually the one to leave home first; he finds his real companionship outside the family circle because he often feels left out of things at home.

In Jack’s case, he didn’t go in a completely opposite direction from Sally. He also turned out to be extremely conscientious, serious, and scholarly. But since all of these traits are ones belonging to firstborns, what happened to Jack? Well, he was a functional firstborn—the firstborn
male
in the Leman family. (More about this in chapter 8.)

One classic middle child trait that Jack possessed was to be a trailblazer who was willing to move far away from family roots in upper New York State. Sally followed the classic firstborn trait of staying with tradition and still lives just a few miles from where we all grew up. But if Jack hadn’t made the major independent breakthrough of traveling all the way to Tucson to do his graduate work at the University of Arizona, neither my parents nor I would have ended up living there. As it was, my parents followed Jack to Tucson. I came along as well and have lived in Tucson ever since, for more than forty-five years.

Secondborn children are known for going in exactly the opposite direction from the firstborn in the family.

And then there was little Kevin, who came along five years after Jack. My birth order rule of thumb says that when there is a five- to six-year gap between children, the next child starts a “new family,” and you can make an educated guess that he or she will be a firstborn personality type in some ways. When there is a gap of seven to ten years (or more), the next child falls into the “quasi–only child” category because there are so many years between him or her and the sibling above.
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Keep in mind, however, that these rules of thumb are subject to how the child is parented plus other influences that occur within the family constellation. In my case, for example, the rule of thumb went out the window for one good reason. My brother took all the heat, because my parents expected a lot more from him than from his baby brother. Jack’s given name was John E. Leman Junior. He was to be the medical doctor my father had always wanted to be but couldn’t because he was very poor and only finished eighth grade. Dad projected onto Jack his own dreams of a fine profession and his own fears of not being somebody. With that kind of pressure on him, you can see why Jack took on many firstborn traits. While he didn’t end up a surgeon or an anesthesiologist, he did become an extremely conscientious PhD in clinical psychology with his own private practice.

When there is a five- to six-year gap between children, the next child starts a “new family.”

As for me, I was nicknamed “Little Cub,” and the handle stuck. But instead of being ignored and left to myself, as many lastborns are, I became the family mascot who was always getting into something.

Babies of the family are very perceptive, and I learned very early that I had two superstars ahead of me.

Babies of the family are very perceptive, and I learned very early that I had two superstars ahead of me. I quickly decided there wasn’t a whole lot I could do by way of achievement to gain attention. My only real accomplishment from pre-school up through high school was playing on the baseball team—that is, when I was eligible, usually the first six weeks of the spring semester before grades came out. (That tells you right off the bat a bit about my academic records in school.) Jack, a star quarterback, never bothered with baseball. In western New York, high school football was the major sport, while baseball was for hardy types willing to put up with freezing to death before small crowds in spring weather that often included late snowstorms.

But Little Cub wasn’t going to be left out. What I lacked in achievement I made up for in mischievousness. I became a manipulative, charming, engaging, and sometimes devilish little show-off. At age eight, while trying to lead a cheer for my sister’s high school team, I found my true calling in life. I learned that entertainers get attention. So entertain I did, especially for my classmates all through grade school and high school. I gained incredible skill at driving teachers a little crazy. I know they heaved a sigh of relief when Kevin Leman graduated at last.

It All Comes Back to That Family Tree

As you look back on your growing-up years, you too can probably come up with a cast of characters similar to the Leman kids: the good students, the athletes, the performers, the attention getters, and the ones who are hard to pigeon-hole. After all my years of researching, studying, and helping families like yours, I am sure of only a few things:

1.
There is no greater influence during your growing-up years than your family.
Yes, I know about all the time you spend in school, Little League, Brownies, and music lessons. But all those things are just a drop in the bucket compared to what goes on at home. During those early years, your parents and siblings (if any) make an indelible psychological imprint, affecting your personality. And that family influence tends to persist through the years and across the miles as you grow up and move away.
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2.
The most intimate relationships in life are with your family
—the one you grew up in and the one you make for yourself through marriage. But the family you grew up in has the inside track. If you’re married, think about how long you’ve been married. Now think about how long you’ve known your siblings. Some of you have known your siblings all your lives. Like it or not, you are tied to your siblings with bonds stronger than even the marriage bonds that tie you to your mate. And you have known your parent(s) all your life as well.

Living in a family, then, is a unique and distinctive experience. The intimate relationships that develop in the family can be found nowhere else on earth.
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And these relationships are created in great part by your order of birth.

3.
The relationship between you and your parents is fluid, dynamic, and all-important.
Every time a child is born, the entire family environment changes. How parents interact with each child as he or she enters the family circle determines in great part that child’s final destiny.

I mentioned earlier that my father, a very hardworking man, never had the opportunity to go beyond eighth grade. That lack of schooling was something he always regretted. He wanted very much for at least one of his sons to be a medical doctor. I don’t think he was partial to doctors because of any visions of saving the world from disease and death. He just knew that doctors were well educated and well paid, and he wanted his children to have a better, easier life than he had. So the importance of education became a major value that my father communicated to all of his children—even to bear cub Kevin, who didn’t show as much promise (or interest) as the older children.

Did my dad’s values and speeches about education sink in? Well, the results tell their own story. Sister Sally got As all her life, right up through a master’s program. Brother Jack is a clinical psychologist, and somehow bear cub Kevin wound up a psychologist too. Sally and Jack were no great surprise. They had it right from the start. But how did Kevin, the clown prince, get a doctor’s degree? One answer is, “With a great deal of difficulty!” For now, let’s leave it in the minor-miracle category. My high school teachers might even label it a
major
miracle. In fact, I know they would.

Every time a child is born, the entire family environment changes. How parents interact with each child as he or she enters the family circle determines in great part that child’s final destiny.

Use Birth Order to Your Advantage

As you read this book and learn more about why you are the way you are, you’ll find practical ways to use your particular birth order to your advantage in personal relationships and even in the business world.

How does your branch fit on your family’s tree? All of us sprout in our own unique direction and make our own unique contributions. But as you begin to understand birth order and how it influences you, you can improve your relationships in every arena of life. You’ll even get some clues about the kind of jobs you enjoy (and the ones you don’t), and why. You’ll also discover how to get along better with bosses and co-workers—whether in business or community service.