pearl harbor has a competitor

For two years, I was an only child. And then my parents turned on me.


Just short of my second birthday, my mother brought a blanket-covered competitor into our house in Powers -- my brother, Darrel.


I welcomed my new brother in typical style -- by throwing a toy truck at my mother and breaking her glasses.


That incident was followed by arrows, pellet guns, and broken violin bows. Between the two of us. By that point, our mother had reverted to her sacred position of fairy princess.


My memory says all of those violent acts were not my doing. But, hey, it's my memory and my blog. And we were boys.


But there were much better times, as well.


The best of those have come during the past decade after our father's death. The two of us have become much closer. Sharing accomplishments and losses. Drawing closer as time draws its boundaries around us.


He helped me moved to Mexico and stayed for the first month to ease my transition -- taking time away from his own family and job. And he repeatedly helps me keep my computer operating in my brine-doused beach house. Without him there would be no blog.


It has been a certain number of years since that fateful day in December when I discovered that the world did not revolve around me.


It is my brother's birthday today.


And what better time to thank him for being my best brother. My best friend.


Happy birthday, guy.