Dear John Letter

warning: this is a picture heavy post. They're really embarrassing pic's, too!

Dear John,

Look how sweet you were!


Then as you got a little older, you turned into this mean bastard that used to beat the shit out of me on a daily basis. You’d punch me if you didn’t get the first bowl of the sugary cereal our parents rarely bought. You’d punch me if you didn’t get the last bowl. You’d hit me for not waking you on Sat. mornings and you’d miss Scooby Doo. You’d hit me if I did wake you because you wanted to sleep. You once hit me out of the blue and when I asked why, you said it was because I was your sister and not your brother. You’d make me touch the hot-wire in the pasture to see if it was on or not.

(see me leaning away from you! haha)

BUT, you were always, always, ALWAYS there for me when I needed you. You never let anyone else lay a finger on me, talk bad about or to me. You taught me to be tough. To never take shit from anyone (including you). To never give up. To never, Never say “Uncle”. (If I did, you’d hit me for being a pussy.)

Remember the endless hours of games we’d play? Life, Sorry, Backgammon, and (my two least favorite, your top two picks) Parcheesi and Uncle Wiggly. You taught me to play football and to skateboard. Dad and mom taught me to ride a bike but you made me brave the scary vertical dirt hills across the street. You were always pushing me to try new things that scared the crap out of me. You’d say, “So you fall, so what. You get back up and try again.” Pretty wise for a 10 year old.

Remember when we almost set the back field on fire? We’d found those black worm fireworks in the kitchen junk drawer and went out back to set them off. They wouldn’t go (we didn’t realize they were probably duds) and we put some dry grass on top of them and lit it. They still didn’t work but the fire we set went racing down the hill towards that field. That 50 acre field of tall summer-dried grass. I looked at you , you looked at me, we both looked past the spreading fire to that field. You yelled, “HOSE” and went racing after the fire. I ran to turn the hose on but the damn thing wasn’t attached to the spigot. I yelled, “NOT ATTACHED!” You were stomping on the fire, we switched places. You got the hose attached and doused me and the flames. We spent about an hour kicking dirt and other grass onto the blackened ground. Breathing hard and laughing nervously at our stupidity. If our parents knew, they never said anything!

You could always make me laugh. Still! With your, “What’s the dill, pickle?” Or when you’d call me “dut-butter”. What does that MEAN? I still don't know!

You literally saved my life at least 3 times. You saved my ass more times then I can count. I saved yours plenty, too!

In high school, you became a long-haired, metal head/stoner. In every sense of the word. We drifted apart then. You had your friends, I had mine. We didn’t really have anything in common except growing up in our crazy family.

With that long blonde hair and your steel blue eyes, you got all the chicks! You were quite a dog but when you settled on the one you wanted, you were done with all that.

But, again, you were always there for me. I loved when you walked me down the aisle, you on one side, dad on the other. It was perfect.

You lived hard and drove fast. I never thought you’d see 30. I was even skeptical about 25! You did, though. And then some! You’ve made a great career as an electrician and you’ve been there for mom when I couldn’t. And you NEVER age, what's up with that?? You’re a compassionate, loving, loyal man and I’m proud of you!

Happy 40th Birthday!