I have exactly two memories of my biological mother: one is of listening to her bicker with my dad about needing to stop at the drugstore for pantyhose, presumably having run the ones she was wearing. The other, attempting to sit on her lap and not being able to, since she was a tiny woman and pregnant with my twin brothers.
There should be no surprise that in spite of our 3-year age gap, these two are part of my earliest memory. They have always left quite an impression!
My brothers are two of the most unique people one could ever meet – and while they look so much alike that no one ever believes they are fraternal, they are two very distinct people. That’s not to say they aren’t a lot alike, however.
When we were younger, they wowed the grownups with their abilities. Reading before three. Math problems, too. They knew all the states and their capitals. They read maps better than my mom. To this day, they both can tell you not just who won a Super Bowl of any given year, but they can tell you the scores of any game, the breakdown of points by quarter, which player scored which points, and as an added bonus, what happened in our own lives on that day. I am not even kidding. I’ve witnessed arguments between them concerning which shirt they were wearing during a game that took place in 1985.
I shall spare them the extended memory list, as it is their birthday and I don’t wish to embarrass them, but while they may exist as children in my memory, they are now grown men: each with beautiful wives whom I not only approve of but love like sisters. Both now fathers. Both not only smarter than anyone I’ve ever known, but also wise.
Happy birthday, Adam and Joe. I love you.