Today is my sister’s birthday. She is just under 126 years old but doesn’t look a day over 90. You know they say that 90 is the new 70, I think they say that but if they don’t they should because she doesn’t look a day over 70 either. She has been my sister for as long as I can remember with only the occasional break, where she went off to be someone else’s sister for awhile. Those times never stuck and she always came back and was my sister again. That’s family closeness no matter how you look at it.

We were stuck with each other through many of life’s trials and tribulations where one thing or another always seemed to be happening. She would often run away, which is why mom always kept her in a harness, much to the horror of anyone seeing us out in public. But she never ran far. I mean she didn’t cross state lines or anything. We had a lot of fun stuff happen while we were kids, We had bunk beds back then and she had the top bunk and she would like stick her finger in the light bulb socket and it would blow her completely out of bed where she would land on me screaming. She screaming, not me. I would start screaming afterwards.  Of course the folks would come running in expecting the worst until finally they got used to it. I never did and to this day will often wake up in a cold sweat thinking a half-electrocuted person is falling on me.

In the image above I had just told her that I would never ever under any circumstances ever forget her birthday. Of course she believed me then and still does to this day. I was quite believable back then as you can see by my serious demeanor and she, although young, and very good looking for a sister, was quite gullible so it all worked out.

But I have to say this. She is the best sister a brother could ever have and I love her with all my heart. This is in spite of the fact that she categorically denies me the right to come and spend the winter down in Texas with her and the long suffering, I mean happy, Paul and their mean little dog Megan. But then you can’t expect things to be perfect even in the best of families.

Happy Birthday Marcia. I love you. Your less than serious, but totally honest brother, Dwight.

P.S. You told me you’re were giving up birthdays, but then you would always tell me stuff, so it’s not my fault if I’m almost nearly late with saying Happy Birthday. You need to remind me sooner, or I’m telling. OK, Happy Birthday then.