My charming sister’s Birthday is in a few days. It’s not one of the biggies, just another odd, non-winning number in the mid-life lottery. This event occasionally causes me to take a few moments away from the very important things that I normally do to think about her for a bit.
My sister is older by over two years and I care for her a great deal. Not as much as I once did, but I certainly still like her, everyone does. EVERYONE likes my sister. (Though full disclosure requires I reveal that I only have the opinions of the living to go by.) She is, and always has been sweet, soft-spoken, and quick to giggle or applaud as appropriate, and generally reads good books. She is in fairly good health as I recall, and is married to a wonderful guy who apparently loves her a lot. She is also important and successful, in the halls of academia. She is the Registrar of a very tidy state university in southwestern Kentucky. Once again I say all these things based on the very limited information I have. Like they do with gymnastic scores in the Olympics, I threw out the best and worst things I’ve heard about her and am only commenting on the non-extreme middle-ground. For example I have heard some vicious things from her severely overworked and underpaid secretary, Susan, about Stalin-like despotism, wild and angry snack episodes, spitting, mass firings, and vengeful mutilation of plants, animals and humans. But like I said, I throw out the best and worst, assuming they are merely jealous rants, or girlish over-emotional reactions.
(I also heard from her secretary that my sister is sweet, respectful, professional, and doesn’t really sweat very offensively on the hottest of days. I threw that one out for the obvious reason that my sister probably commanded her to say those things. Susan is a nice lady, but prone to jitters and extreme, opossum-like timidity under pressure.)
My sister is my dad’s only daughter, and it always showed. I shy away from the word ‘princess’ but frankly, that’s exactly what I’m trying to say. I came to be aware of this gross unfairness early on as she got the better slices of cake, the cleaner dishes, and her birthday and Christmas presents were actually store-bought. I adjusted to this inequity though as soon as I had a daughter of my own. For some reason it made perfect sense after that. So I can forgive her for that much.
I know what you are asking at this point, it’s the same thing I’ve been asking myself all day: “But Dennis, how does your sister’s birthday affect YOU?”
I’m Glad we asked.
Kathy is my canary in the mine. As I said, she’s a couple of years older, and from what I’m told, we share some DNA, so like the canary I keep an eye on her to see what falls off or goes sour, what ailments, pains and diseases might arise. This is a very important role for her, one that I hope she does not take lightly. I suppose I could consider my older brother for the same role, but having spent time with him I’m pretty sure we don’t share a whole lot of common building material. Not that there’s anything wrong with Steve, but he’s about as much like me as the old VW’s are like the new ones. Sure, they may be from the same company, but they’re just not the same.
Kathy is also not aging as well as I am. I don’t know if this is a result of the male-female differences or the soft, care-free life and constant pampering she received as a child, but I can look at her and rate myself as ‘probably better by ten or twenty percent’ on any point. That takes a HUGE load off my mind, like comparing your dinner to a poorer family’s rather than the bank presidents’, you just feel better about yourself from the perspective of looking downward.
When she first started losing her youthful appearance, many, many years ago, it was another five to ten years before I deemed myself in that same declining state. Don’t take me wrong, one look at me and you KNOW , using that same ratio, that she can’t be too bad off appearance wise, but face it, we’re not in our twenties anymore, we’ve both got some sagging, and fading, and a bit of extra protection from the cold, but Kathy at one time, was HOT!
I recall when we were in high school and she would have her friend Debbie stay over. It was all I could do to not stare, or faint. I mean Debbie was SUPER-HOT! (probably isn’t now either, but I don’t know for sure) and together, well they caught the ‘attention’ of many, many, many, MANY young 'suitors'. This was the early seventies, tight bell-bottom jeans and bra-less halter tops. Kathy had a red one… It drove dad nuts, it just confused me. Nothing tawdry here, I’m just saying if she weren’t my sister (or if fewer people knew she was) I might even have gone slumming for a bit and hit on her myself.
“But Dennis, are you saying that you were ten to twenty percent hotter?”
I am, of course, much too modest to reply honestly.
Personal to Kathy: I haven’t bought you a card yet, but I did think about it at this morning as I passed the $1 store. If you don’t get one, it’s only because someone forgot to supply me with stamps.
Your adoring brother;
Dennis
