Siblings (ages 79-89) reconnect and reminisce at Bloomington senior living community

Turns out I missed Siblings Day, held annually on April 10. The day honors — with loving notes, inside jokes and cringe-worthy prom photos on social media — the childhood roommates we cherish, most of the time.

Fortunately, I more than made up for the oversight with a visit this week to Friendship Village, a Bloomington-based senior living community.

For Larry Wood, 79; Jean Cullen, 87, and Mary Marx, 89, every day is Siblings Day.

After 50 or so years of working, traveling, nurturing long marriages and raising a bunch of kids, the three siblings live, once again, under the same roof.

"It was a no-brainer," said Wood, the baby of the clan, sitting with his sisters at a dining room table in one of Friendship Village's gathering spots.

"When siblings get married, you get separated and don't see each other so often," he said. "We're a lot closer as a family now."

Cullen, a widow, lives in the assisted-living wing; Marx, also widowed, lives in a small apartment. Wood and Pat, his wife of 59 years, have a two-bedroom apartment.

The Wood siblings were raised in southeast Minneapolis, the children of Priscilla, a telephone operator, and Clyde, a truck driver.

Their firstborn brother, Phil, joined the Navy out of high school, then worked as an accountant. He died in 2006 at age 81. Mary, who was born deaf, did office work for Land O'Lakes. Jean worked for an international milling company. Larry attended Dunwoody, then worked in the printing trade, including 28 years at the Star Tribune.

They all had long marriages and, between them, reared 17 children, and are now enjoying 34 grands and 11 greats, with two on the way.

Like many busy siblings, they saw each other for summer picnics, holiday celebrations, birthdays and anniversaries.

Time and circumstance brought them back together.

"I was living alone and it wasn't easy to contact either of my siblings," said Marx, speaking with the help of her sign-language-proficient daughter, Maureen Driscoll. "Now we reminisce a lot about the old days, sports, school, ice skating in Van Cleve Park."

Much has been written in recent years about a sea change in American living arrangements. Homebuilders are accommodating multigenerational families with mother-in-law cottages and updated basements for college graduates boomeranging back to the nest.

But how many of us can imagine living long, independent lives and then, in the winter of our lives, eagerly moving back in with the people who always stole the last brownie?

Actually, I can, although I'll need to check with my brothers to see where they stand on that (the move, not the brownie). I know that my warm feelings toward them, maybe more now than ever, put me in the lucky camp.

About 80 percent of us have at least one sibling, but our connections to them vastly vary. For some siblings, gathering once a year at Thanksgiving or Christmas is about right. For others, that's too much.

"I'm sad my little brother and I are apart," one such person commented online. "But I believe days like there used to be will be coming. I pray for him every day. We were so close, and helped one another."

"Some siblings are people you wouldn't wish on your worse enemy," wrote another, "like a couple of mine. Not a day worth recognizing to me."

So, maybe Siblings Day is just a silly excuse to post old pictures.

But it's humbling to realize that our sibling bonds are likely to be the longest relationships we'll have with anyone in this world — longer than with our parents or our spouses or our own children.

Not everybody can have what the lucky Wood family has. But for our kids, at least, those among us who have longed to reconnect or heal serve as role models.

"All siblings can put aside their conflicts and parental issues," noted one hope-filled commenter.

"Remember, they are people with whom we share a great deal of history."