I'll always be younger than you...but not necessarily cooler...

To my dearest brother, Matt who turns 37 today:

For your birthday, I'd like to sing you a song because you showed me how to have performance composure and how to really enjoy dancing and singing while wearing sequins.  Thank you for sharing with me your musical gifts; one of my favorite memories of you is watching you sing in your bedroom to the Beach Boys (or was it Huey Lewis and the News?) sporting your neon green sunglasses.  I thought you were sooooo cool.  In fact, I thought you were so cool that I wanted to do everything like you, including playing the trombone.  It's even documented in a 6th grade video that this was my main reason for picking the trombone.

Your present this year is SmartWool athletic socks to help your icky sweaty feet when you run.  I know they get gross because we have the exact same feet DNA.  I promise these socks will change your life, just like basketball changed mine.  You showed me how to really play hard and love the game.  It took me awhile to get off of the gymnastics bandwagon and I wouldn't have done it without your awesome defense and rad looking basketball jersey.  I loved listening to Dad yell during the games and talk (yell?) with you afterward.  I learned a lot.

My google calendar just popped up a reminder that it's your birthday.  Remember when I forgot?  You thought I was mad at you.  I felt like the worst sister in the world so I sent you twice the presents.  You've never forgotten mine and always call with a "Heeeeey, Happy Birthday.  Did you get some cake?"  In fact, if I were to tally all of the phone calls I've ever received, EVER, you would be on the top of the list for sure.  (Don't tell Mom she's not on the top...)  When I went to college, you called to check up on me all the time.  I might have acted like I was too busy for you, but felt really really loved when you called.  So, sorry and Thank You. 

I have so enjoyed watching you with your family.  You are a great husband and father and your kids love the snot out of you.  I saw you come home after work one day when Zachary was a little guy.  You kissed Zachary on the head and your smile was so familiar.  I figured it was the same smile that Dad had when he got home from work. 

You are such a cool brother; you always watch for the best electronics deals making you an awesome resource, you are not above the go-karts and arcade games (and you don't even make fun of how much I suck at the driving games), you play tanks with my husband until 3am (you set high goals for yourself), you text me silly stuff (like a picture of your toilet bowl containing poo and one of your childrens' toys) which makes my day, and you still call me a lot to check up (and it still makes me feel really really loved). 

So Happy Birthday big brother.  Wish I could be there to sing you a song, give you a hug, and eat your cake.

Love you!

 

A Special Guy who loved red

Today is the day that my greatly loved Dad passed away, 13 years ago.  I can't believe that he's been gone almost as long as I knew him.  But like my mom said today, memories can keep people alive in us.  The recent recurring memory that has waltzed into my thoughts (Dad taught me how to waltz, sort of) is an 'after dinner' memory....the scent of garlic still lingers in the air from another delicious experiment for dinner and Dad is standing over the stove meticulously scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing.  It's funny that THIS is what I remember because I really hate cleaning, especially tasks like the stove.  Ugh.  It is comforting to know I'm not the only one who has ever had to do it.

I often remember getting tucked in at night, after I was really "too old" to be tucked in.  He would slowly walk up the stairs and pause in my doorway.  He probably thought I was asleep but maybe he knew I was up and about until I saw the hallway light switch on and then scrambled into bed.

He watched all of my performances with great attention and being a head taller than most in the audience, I could always find his face when I needed an encouraging smile.  He nicknamed all of my friends according to something silly they had done; Flowergirl (for parking her bike in Mom's flowers), Crash (for crashing into the tree whilst tree swinging), Smurfette and Squirrel (?)...you get the picture.

I love hugs and kisses, just like him.  He gave to me his love of travel and his curiosity about the world.  I get really angry during sporting events and that is certainly not from my mother.  He was proud, loving, a teeny bit stubborn, and really really great to be around.  And the man just loved red!  And we (still) love him.