Better Late Than Never

A few days late, here's a Happy Birthday Blog to my big brother Rob. Here he last summer with his daughter Abby. It would embarass the heck out of him, but I need to work on getting some more recent pictures of him. Be forewarned Rob - next trip to Michigan my camera will be trained on YOU.

He's pretty cool, as far as big brothers go - he's an accountant and he has an infinity for numbers and details and math that completely befuddle me. He actually LIKES lists and spreadsheets and he even reads the WallStreet Journal - heck, he was even IN the Wall Street Journal (with a picture and everything!) a couple years ago for his business savvy when it comes to fiscal management of your child's college education...or something like that.

He never thought he'd get married - he thought he'd live it up as a bachelor in NYC, working on Wall Street. These days he's content to read about WallStreet and be a great dad to his FOUR children. Yeah, FOUR - it's like some sort of freakish revolt against the typical American family with 4 bedroom home, 2 cars, 1 golden retriever and 1.7 children. They got everything right except for the number of children, but hey, he always HAS been an overachiever.

Growing up, I always referred to him as The Golden Child. He did everything right - he skillfully played the piano for 9 years, had an outstanding GPA, played basketball, always obeyed our parents, never broke curfew, diligently saved every dime he ever made.....the disgustingly perfect first-born who paved a rough road for whatever poor schmuck was unfortunate enough to be born next (i.e. ME).

Those first years were rough - he's seven years older than me and when mom and dad brought me home I cried A LOT (it was probably a foreknowledge of what I was in for having to do the next act after HIM) and after uncovering his ears from my incessant wailing, his first comment to my parents was, "Can't we take her BACK?"

After I had some time to grow up a little and the NEXT poor scmuck came along (youngest sister Shari) I graduated from annoying-little-sister to At-least-I-can-stand-her status. I think he realized at this point that a little brother was NEVER gonna happen. In high school he started his own lawn business that is STILL in existence to this day - passed on to another teenager we knew, who passed it on, who passed it on. Then he went to the big time in college - working landscaping at a golf course. I was working by this time too, but without a car so he'd sometimes pick me up on his way home and we'd stop by Little Caesar's Pizza and order 2 bags of crazy bread (one for each of us) and scarf the ENTIRE thing in the car on the way home. Man, do I miss Little Caesar's.

He likes to try new things - likes to eat at local eateries as opposed to chains, tries new foods and new places. He's not your typical dad who likes to drive nonstop to the family vacation destination. He'd rather take his time and wander around. Check out new places and see new things. He's laid back and relaxed. He's fiercely loyal. He's a beer snob and wants to go to Germany, just so he can try every single one of their fantabulous beers. He's not very openly affectionate, or overly emotional, but those he loves, he loves with passion. He's easily embarassed - his face turns red and he might punch you if you make him blush. He's only verbally told me that he loves me about 6 times in his entire life, but I KNOW that he loves me through his actions every time I'm with him.

He's funny, too - pretty witty guy, if ya know what I mean. Once, after making himself a slice of banana bread with butter and putting it neatly on a plate, he was descending the stairs in our house when he missed a step and completely bit it - rolling head over heels down about 6 steps. Mouth hanging open, I didn't know whether to laugh or call 911. With his legs literally over his head and his neck craned at an awkward angle, he says, "is my banana bread ok?"

In high school we frequently participated in a friendly competition we called "surprise" in which we would catch each other unawares and quickly yank down each other's pants yelling SURPRISE! He was always better at it than me but my opus came when he was out in the front yard doing lawn work and I got him good - pants all the way down to his ankles, tighty-whities flapping in the warm summer air. I was ROLLING on the ground in laughter and triumph.

He's a good big brother - typically watchful, protective, helpful. He does our taxes every year (he's an accountant) and buys me dinner when I come for a visit. He mentions how much he misses me JUST enough so that I know that he means it, but not enough (or so he thinks) that I realize that he really, really, REALLY misses me. And I miss him too.

Happy Birthday Rob. Love you.