Sixty. The number lands heavy today, doesn’t it? I see it in your eyes when you joke about “officially old,” but I also see the kid who beat the odds the day he took his first breath.
Chaos: “Your baby may not make it”
Today they call it placenta previa. That’s what happened to you. Doctors told Mom she may not make it through the delivery; they said you might not either. They even told my parents to prepare themselves that they may have a child with mild to severe retardation. (Which is why dad never allowed that word in our house.) Chaos from minute one. Yet here you are, still running circles around the rest of us.
OK, so maybe I didn’t always recognize how cool it was to have you as my little brother. You were annoying! And yes, when you were five, I did push you against the wall and you ended up in the ER with stitches. But to be fair, you rubbed your muddy shoes on my bedroom door while I was cleaning my room! And let’s not forget the things you did to me, like rubbing Vaseline on my eyeglasses or sticking toothpicks in the ottoman (which landed me in the ER with a tetanus shot after doctors pulled toothpicks out out of my behind.) But I digress. 🤣
Little Daredevil
Remember when you were six and our Pennsylvania cousins urged you to pull the city fire alarms? In that tiny town, the alarms were loud and the firetrucks, swift. A panicked little you came racing back to Aunt Louise’s house, wearing a terrified expression that quickly melted into your infamous mischievous grin. 😁 Or the time dad drove all the way to 7-11 to find you racing home on your Big Wheels because you wanted candy even though we had a big storm coming in and we couldn’t find you??? You still have that same mischievous spirit and that same heart of always taking those dares!
Running his way through the grief
Five years ago, your world cracked open. Losing your boy at fourteen—well…there aren’t words big enough for that ache. You and your wife have handled this with so much grace. I’ve never been more in awe of you. Some days the grief still ambushes you, I know. But you keep moving. You lace up your shoes and pound the pavement like the miles can carry some of the weight. They can’t fix it, but they keep you upright, and that counts.
No couch potato
We’ve outlived Mom now, both of us. She was 58, trapped in that wheelchair by the bone disease that stole her spark too soon. Dad eventually checked out too, basically living the rest of his life in his recliner, beer in one hand, remote in the other, his poor beaten body giving up long before his time. But YOU? You’re the anti-Dad. You grill, you laugh loud, you’re always on the go, you chase every flavor like it’s the last bite on earth. Sixty looks like strength on you. You refuse to give in to the blows that life deals and honestly, I can’t see you ever sitting still.
Childhood challenges
You had a rough time when you were growing up. You were much smaller than your friends and you struggled with learning at a slower pace, before we had diagnoses like dyslexia, or ADHD. But the one person who believed in you, most of all was always your mother. Mom always called you her little survivor. And despite your size, you were so athletic. Football, baseball, swim team, you loved your sports. At eight years old, your baseball coach fudged the numbers so that you could pitch in his league. I still remember how good you were and how you once took a line drive to your mouth and ended up in the hospital with a stitched up tongue. 😛
life of the party
To this day, you are still the undisputed life of the party— walk into any room and the volume spikes, the stories start flying, and someone’s always begging for “just one more” of your infamous smoked sausages and peppers or other delish concoctions. My fellow foodie, my partner in Holiday menu planning, we will discuss the right cut of beef while listening to the Eagles, Bread, The Four Seasons or the Stones, then slip into reminiscing about Mom’s kitchen or how much dad hated us laughing at the dinner table over hanging cuckoo clock weights that we thought look like turds.😂
markie’s Milestone
So yeah, 60 feels like a milestone with sharp edges. But look at the road behind you—hell, look at the road still IN you. You’re proof that starting life chaotically doesn’t mean ending broken. Mom and dad always said we should always be kind to each other because someday we would be all that we had left of our family. She was right. And today, the little brother who spent every Christmas morning of my childhood with me is 60.
So… Happy birthday, little brother. Mom always called you lucky but I say the world’s more lucky you stuck around. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without the crazy little beast who drove me nuts growing up. But I do know this…he morphed into a built in bestie. Now go run another mile. I promise you it’s not so bad to be in your 60s, and no matter what you do, your big sister will still be right here, cheering like always.
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