I remember keeping each other entertained during car trips. I'd write silly stories and he'd laugh at my spelling.
I remember drinking creme soda upstairs at our Grandma Vergenz's house with the hope of out-burping each other.
I remember sharing a room in Davenport at our Grandparents' house, he on the futon and I on the couch cushions on the floor, both happily exhausted from our day at the pool.
He was a good older brother. He looked out for me. He let me tag along. He never, well rarely, felt the need to torture me.
(One exception was when he pulled the pin out of his novelty grenade and told me the house was going to blow up. I pleaded with him to throw it out the window. You know,
exceptions.)
He was a good older brother... but he was always my
older brother. He made sure I knew my rank as the little sister.
When we moved to Savage, the neighborhood kids were almost exclusively boys. He's let me join in the extensive squirt gun fights - but my gun wouldn't shoot as far, and I didn't get to wear camouflage.
We'd play with Lego's in our neighbor Brian's basement. They'd construct elaborate ski hills with working lifts and I had to build a boring house.
More recently, he reminded me of our similar tastes in music. He was at college in Duluth and liked the band, Green Day. While home on a break he discovered I, as a High School senior, was listening to them too. He told me that was the day he knew Green Day was no longer cool.
In honor of my brother, my
older brother, I've selected a song I know we both enjoy. I'll just pretend not to like it too much so the song, and John, will always remain cool.
The Beatles - Here Comes The Sun.(Read by Saralyn at the Celebration of John's Life)
