Happy Birthday, Brother

He cut off his pony tail.... now I'm the only sibling with one.

He helped his daughter buy a coach house in Chicago, and stopped by Little Cuter's house in Indiana on the way... because the best way for him to get from Maryland to Illinois was to drive.... because silver metal tubes should not be zipping through the air.... and because he can visit the only members of the next generation in our little family.

He's always been good about keeping in touch.  He organizes the annual phone call to our sister, laughing at my reluctance to engage.  He doesn't mind her snark - which drives me batshit crazy - and insists that we call and sing (his version of Happy Birthday includes you look like a monkey, and you smell like one, too) and somehow she's never aggravated with him.

He loved the Cubbies and now he loves the Nationals. When the logo jacket I bought him for his 30th birthday in Chicago wore out (finally) I replaced it with the DC team for his 60th.... though I still hope he harbors some love for Wrigleyville and the boys, I have to admire his fortitude.  These are not teams that usually win anything.  He loves them all the same.

He has a straightforward attitude towards life.  He looks for balance - work, love, religion, family, society - and comes closer to achieving it than anyone else I know.  He's as self-sufficient a human as one can be.  He grows corn and builds wooden objets d'art and has stored more of our family's past in his shed.  

I miss him.  

Today is his birthday, and this is as close to a hug and a kiss as I can get.  I'll call and sing (the monkey will appear in my song, for sure) and let him make me laugh.  Sometime, soon, that's all going to happen in person.  Until then, he'll have to print this out and hold it to his chest.

That's all I can do for now, Brother Dear.  HOpe your day is fabulous - just like you!