Here we go again, Rupert…

It is hard to believe, but once again it is the 17th of May. The youngest brother is now officially (let me do the math) 38. A few more years and his European shoe size will match his age 😉

Here’s what I associate with our youngest brother: brains bordering on the frightening, crack bowling skills, the ability to locate by using types of restaurants as coordinates, the guy that can get a group of strangers to not only tell him about their lives but also invite him to eat their bar snacks (watching this in action is amazing – the Great Snack Swindle), the one who talks things out and of course, the bait that landed us Meredith as a family member.

Rupert is my brother that I can spend the most time with in conversation and silence. Although, there’s not much of that when he is around. He’s the brother that is really useful to have around for when fun is on the agenda, his inner clown makes that readily apparent. He’s the brother that you can walk for hours with and if you give him a beer or two, he handles the cycling in Amsterdam pretty well. In our family, he is also the one that isn’t shy about saying when one of us is being an asshat or when we need to calm down. I think this expertise is developed out of the fact that he used to be the one winding us up as kids. We were convinced that no one had a younger brother like Rupert. I think we were probably right!

My mom used to tell us not to give him an audience, that we would only make it worse. Yeah, and she was right. But how could we resist paying attention to the kid that was always acting up – in the sense that he didn’t think he needed anyone to tell him what to do. I know from conversations years later, she would have to walk away because she had just as much trouble not laughing. The gift of laughter that Rupert gave my mom is one of the reasons he will always be in (mostly) good graces with me.

Since we won’t be seeing each other next month, I miss you even more this time of year, Rupert. And I am glad that growing up, you had the good sense to like cheesecake for those years we shared birthday cakes. I know I wanted you to be a sister and have the name Rose and you didn’t turn out that way. And I know I screamed at Mom when I got the news over the phone to take you back and exchange you for a sister. I have to say, I have a pretty big spot in my heart for you, Rupinder. I can’t wait to see you again and share stories, pizza, beer and all the resulting digestive sounds that go with those kind of nights with you.

Happy Birthday, Rupert 🙂

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