On this day in 1980, my little sister entered this world unaware of the task that awaited her -- trying to make her way in the cold, unforgiving shadow of her older brother, a man other men wanted to be and women wanted to be with, a man who stood astride the worlds of journalism, arts and letters, popular culture, and probably a bunch of other things like a veritable colossus. Not a task you'd wish upon anyone, much less an innocent apple-cheeked young girl, but that was what she was stuck with.
Fast-forward 26 years later, and she is the organized, together, thoughtful, mature, capable-of-maintaining-a-long-term-relationship one in the family, while her older brother is the flaky, scatterbrained slob whose personal best in relationships is three months and who still laughs uproariously at poop jokes. (Heh, I said "poop.") Oh well! Life's crazy like that sometimes.
Anyway, this is my way of saying happy berfday, baby sis, you've done pretty well for yourself in your first 26 years. Now let's see how you handle the next 26. Just so you know, I'll be damned if I'm gonna let you get a book published before I do.
Oh, and I seriously considered posting the picture Mom took of you fast asleep on your training potty when you were two years old, but I didn't. You're welcome.
(Leave your berfday wishes for Ann in the comments below, or at her blog Practically Harmless, or you're dead to me.)
1 comment:
I didn't know your little sister could fly a B-17. Boy, you did turn out to be the loser!
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