Think of twins and the typical mental image is of chubby-cheeked toddlers wearing identical outfits, or lookalike teens who love swapping places with their sibling to fool the unsuspecting.
It’s not often we consider the adult twin – who, while they may have their own families, live at opposite ends of the country or even overseas, are still inextricably tied together.
They’ve spent their lives being pointed at and whispered about, and answering the dreaded question of “who was born first?”. Some struggled with twin-dom and were determined to become their “own person”, while others had no issues with going through life with their “other half”.
The transition from child to adult in a multiple birth relationship was the theme of November’s International Multiple Birth Awareness Week, celebrated here by Multiples NZ, a support group which has helped 18,000 families since it was established in 1982.
There were 828 sets of twins born in New Zealand in 2015. The Weekly spoke to three sets – six women who have had a lifetime of constant comparisons, along with a constant companion.
Jeanette Blackburn & Jeannine Smith, 75, live in Rotorua
Jeanette: We’re very, very close; you couldn’t get two people who were more identical. We do all those twin things – speak for each other, finish each other’s sentences. I never went through a stage of wanting to be different from her, ever.
We’re an open book to each other, there are no secrets. When we were small, we broke our arms in exactly the same place within a few weeks of each other and the doctor couldn’t tell from the X-rays which was which. When one of us is sick, the other one feels it, instantly.
We both paint. Jeannine moved into china painting. I’ve had one of mine presented to the Queen. We’ve had experts look at our work and they couldn’t tell the difference.
Neither sister, who say being a twin is a “privilege” ever wanted to be different from the other.
We got married within a year of each other and we both had two girls. Our husbands weren’t mates until we married, but now they’re best friends.
We may well have been the first twins to hold a sit-in – in standard five [age 11], the teachers decided we should be separated at school so they put us in different classes. We sat out in the corridor and told them we weren’t moving until we were put back in the same class.
I wouldn’t know what it would be like to be on my own. I don’t know what will happen when one of us goes.
They are both self-taught painters and even experts can’t tell their work apart.
Jeannine: Being a twin is a privilege – there’s another person just like you. I never thought of us as being odd, but when people pointed at us, I’d feel special.
Many years ago, my husband and I were looking at buying a beautiful big Holden Brougham from Pakuranga Motors. The agent looked at my little bomb of a car and said you can’t afford a car like this. We thought blow you, drove to New Lynn and brought a Valiant. About two months later, we went to see Jeanette and Graeme and, without a word of a lie, that Brougham was sitting in their carport.
There’s nothing that she would like that I wouldn’t and there’s not a day goes by where we don’t ring each other. I remember once at high school Jeanette got a detention and I had to catch the bus home by myself. It was so traumatic for me to catch that bus by myself, it took me days to get over it.
We spent winters in Mooloolaba, where my daughter is, for decades. The toll calls would be enormous and I’d be crossing the days off on the calendar. Most people would say they wouldn’t want to go home because they were having such a good time, but I just longed to be back with her.
Joanne Courtney (left) & Christine Gordon, 62, live in Taranaki
Christine: We were quite different to look at but we were dressed the same way as kids. Back then, we were considered cute. We were always referred to as “the twins” and even now my aunty talks about calling one of the twins. We had the same friends when we were young – when we’d go to play with someone, both of us would go.
We didn’t really have too many issues with trying to forge separate identities, probably because we were so different. Once we realised we could actually dress ourselves, we did, and in quite different clothes.
I did a shorthand typing course at high school and Joanne did homecraft.
And we went in quite different directions once we left home and had families of our own. Joanne lived in Auckland for 30 years, so we’d only see each other every couple of years.
We’re close as in there have been times when I have a feeling something’s not right and think I should ring her, but we’ve never talked for each other or anything like that.
We’ve got closer since she moved back to New Plymouth after her husband died. Around five years ago, I was diagnosed with kidney failure, which dad died of. I was talking to Joanne about a year ago and asked how she was, and it turned out she had renal failure as well. We both started dialysis this year.
Dressed identically as toddlers.
Joanne: When we were born, Christine had blonde curly hair, mine was dark and spiky. We were chalk and cheese, really. Christine tutors floral art; I have no idea how to arrange flowers.
We were in the same class all the way through primary school, which I don’t think helped me – if I didn’t know something, I would ask her and she’d give me the answer. I found it quite challenging to think for myself once we started high school and were put in separate classes.
I’ve noticed that we’ve started looking more alike over the last 10 years, and I can see certain characteristics and traits in her now that I can see in myself. But if she was crook, I never felt that way, yet we’ve now both got kidney disease.
Joanne and Christine.
I’m getting married in December to one of my first boyfriends – we hooked up again after 42 years. He’s going through tests at the moment to see if he can donate a kidney.
I think I’ve missed out on a deeper friendship with her really. My husband didn’t understand, I don’t think. If I said I was going to call Christine, he’d ask, “What for?”
Part of it was being in different cities, so moving back has been great. I’m really enjoying having that closeness again.
Sue Grieve & Judy Brown, 60, live in Invercargill
Judy: Medically, we’re not identical but only people who know us very well can tell us apart. We’ve always had the same interests and still do.
We’ve had our own families but Sue was always my best friend growing up, and she still is – I’m closer to her than anyone. We were always being compared, and still are, but it never bothered me.
I think as we’ve got older, we’ve become even more alike. Even today when we’re walking down the street, people stare at us. I don’t even think about it.
It’s just the way it has always been. We can each go to different hairdressers and still come out with the same cut.
We grew up on a farm with four brothers. We did the same subjects at school and both worked in shops when we left.
Sue has two boys and I have twin sons and a daughter. One of my twins, Clinton, committed suicide eight years ago. He was 27 years old. It was out of the blue. Our surviving twin, Richard, struggles greatly with that.
Sue and Judy were best friends growing up – and still are.
He’s become very involved in Movember, which raises money and awareness for men’s health issues, including depression.
Sue and I never went out of our way to be different – we often finish each other’s sentences and we can still turn up at functions and be wearing the same thing – but the boys did at about high-school age, especially Clint.
People mix up non-identical twins Sue (left) and Judy all the time.
Sue: People get us mixed up all the time. When we were at primary school, they used to make us wear big cardboard signs with our names on them around our necks. We hated it. Now we answer to either name.
We do have different natures. If we were out with Dad feeding the chickens or the dog in the dark, he said he would always know which of us was holding which hand because I’d be the one clinging on. I’m the more anxious one. Jude is a bit more fearless.
When we went to boarding school, Mum and Dad asked for us to be in the same dorm, which we were at first, but then teachers tried to separate us later. I hated it, so they put us back together.
We took home economics and clothing. Mum taught us to sew and we learned on our aunty’s old treadle machine – one used to do the sewing and one would work the treadle.
Our bond is really special. When I was due to go into labour with my first child, Jude had pains and rang to check on me.
I never wished I didn’t have a twin, although Clint and Richard didn’t like being called “the twins”. You are still two different people even though you’re classed as one.
