Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Cue the Singing Waiters with the Huge Sombrero

Today is my sister's birthday. She is five years younger. This makes me the old sister and makes her the one who never kept her socks pulled up on her feet demanding that I tie them together as she rolled on the footstool watching HR Puffenstuff.

I vaguely remember a feeling of excitement when Dad told me I was getting a baby sister. It was short lived. I was forced to pull her around on a sled, which she found impossible to stay on, always rolling off head first into the nearest snow bank. SHE got to have her tonsils out and get cool non-birthday, non- Christmas presents while I was cursed with healthy, yet useless body parts.

AND we had to share a bed. You rarely hear of kids sharing beds these days. Just mention to co-workers that you slept with your sister – the looks range from curious pity to slight fear with the questions always turning toward the possibility of a show on TLC.

With the exception of three years away at school, I shared a room with my little sister. We were thrilled when Mom and Dad brought home bunk beds. I slept in that top bunk until I got married. (and NO – TLC is not interested. I have pitched it. They have asked that I cease and desist.)

Sharing a room for nearly twenty years will bring a certain closeness to people. Just ask the guys on LockDown. We share many of the same interests in books, music, movies. Now. As kids, that five year age difference was like the Grand Canyon. It wasn't until our brother was born that we began to bond. That bond evolved slowly over camping trips where she forgot all her clothes (a classic case of GOT your suitcase vs got YOUR suitcase) and scary scyfy movies requiring racing down the dark hall to our bunks before the Alien and the Amityville Horror teamed up to kill and maim us. (I was faster; she was meaner, but combined we were a 'heard of elephants' according to our Mom.) It wasn't until the night we lay in our respective bunks taunting our brother, IN HIS OWN ROOM, with the fact that we could get him to scream just by screaming ourselves – well – I knew I had a friend for life.

Happy Birthday Sister.

'Seriously Dad, I asked for a Malibu PJ'

(Don't worry Brother - you'll get yours soon enough!)

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