Happy, Happy, Oh, My Friend

I feel lucky that I can call you a friend. Both because you are cool and because we’re stuck with one another anyway. You are a great guy, and I’m happy to have you in my life. In addition to being fun to hang out with, you’ve always taken time to take care of me, like when mom and dad sent me a care package at Halloween full of candy and you tossed in a toothbrush so I wouldn’t get cavities. Or when you wrote me a long letter while I was at college and you taped a dollar bill to the page to I could buy something for myself.

One of my favorite memories is when we went to visit one of my friends and I introduced you as my little brother. That friend gave a long speech about how you might be my younger brother, but since you have a few inches on my and had lots of muscles, there was nothing about you that could be called “little.” You waited until he finished the whole little lecture, then stood up, put your arm around me and, towering over him, told him in no uncertain terms that not only would you always be my little brother, you were also my baby brother, and anyone who wanted to question that fact was risking some trouble. He shut up quickly, and I was so proud.

Little brother, my girls love you. They talk about you all the time, and use the postcards you sent from your trip with Stephanie as book marks in whatever they’re reading. Maggie now has a tendency to use two, just because she likes having them with her so much. I swear Katie is trying harder to read so that she can get to longer books so she needs bookmarks.

Enjoy your day, your trip to the torch and whatever other hippie-hipster things you’ve got planned… It is one of the last times you’ll get to do something crazy and fun like this, since soon, you’re going to have to grow up and have adult responsibilities.

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