Happy Birthday, Big Brother!
This is dad’s favorite picture of us, and yes, I’m confident enough to post my bowl cut.
We were pretty cute regardless.
31 years for you, 27 for me, and I still look up to you as much as I did in this picture.
You taught me at a young age how to wear NBA jerseys and eat cereal after school. You taught me how to sneak our dog inside to watch cartoons before mom got home.
You taught me at an even younger age not to be a wimp. To get my hands dirty and keep up with the boys. You let me play tackle football and helped me get up when I fell down.
You taught me at an older age how to drive a four-wheeler – even if I did crash it into the hay rack. Then you still taught me how to drive the dirt bike. And the go-cart. And the snowmobile.
You taught me about punk rock music and let me use your CD player to blast Green Day and Blink 182. You shared your snare drum so I could eventually play it on my own.
You shared your love for snow and taught me how to hold on when dad pulled our sled behind his Ford. You taught me how to snowboard and bragged about me afterwards to your friends. Thanks for that.
Thank you for never being embarrassed when mom made you take me along. Thank you for making me feel like the kid with the coolest big brother. Thank you for being mean to boys who liked me.
Thank you for showing me the ropes in college and teaching me to like Coors Light. Thank you for dropping me off in Colorado and not telling me how much mom cried. Thank you for always telling me to go for it and being proud of me.
Thank you for being my friend through it all.
I’ll never stop looking up to you and you’ll never stop teaching me things. I promise to never be a wimp and to always keep up with the boys. We’ll always laugh at the awkward moments we get ourselves into and you’ll always remind me not to take life too seriously.
I’ll always have your back.
Just like you’ve always had mine.
Love you, Big Brother. Have a wonderful birthday.