Happy 21st, sis!
It’s my little sister’s birthday today. She turns 21.
I was four and a half when she was born and remember bits and pieces of the day I became a big brother. My parents had scheduled a cesarean so there was no “It’s time, dear” or mad dash to the hospital, as there was for my birth. April 24th is Barbara Streisand’s birthday and my mom is a huge fan, so it’s no coincidence Corrie was born on the same day.
We got up really early and my parents dropped me off at my aunt and uncle’s house. It was dark outside as we ate breakfast at the wrap around table they had in the corner of the kitchen. I remember saying something about having a sister, about something I would be able to do, and my uncle started cracking up. He had on his big glasses (all the rage back in 1987) and he looked at my aunt and started laughing. I have no clue what I said.
At the hospital I stood outside the delivery room windows and watched the army of scrub-clad nurses and technicians walk calmly as they worked. They made it look routine. There was someone in the hall with me and I remember it being a friend my dad worked with, yet that’s not who my parents tell me it was. My dad came out a couple times. He had on a hair cap, booties, and white hospital gown. Hanging from his neck was the JVC camcorder he bought before our trip to Los Angeles the September before (we kept using the thing until a few years ago). He filmed the whole thing. My sister’s entrance into the world is documented on VHS-C videotape while mine was held behind the closed doors of an emergency room. My dad wasn’t even there. But it’s not like I’m jealous or anything. I’m on the tape, too: Curiously peeking over the bottom frame of the window, and later sitting on my dad’s shoulders while my chaperone (whoever it was) films.
A couple days later we all drove home for the first time as a family of four. My sister as been annoying ever since. (Aww. She is annoying, but in that little sister way.)
Her 21st takes me back to my 21st. The day before was the longest day of my life. It never ended. At work I kept looking at the clock, hoping it would start moving as it normally did, but it stalled on every minute. It didn’t help that everyone kept telling me “Tomorrow’s the big day!” as if I needed to be reminded. I waited and waited for midnight. My friend and I sat in the living room of our apartment and watched the minutes creep by on the cable box. Finally, the day reset and I was officially able to buy booze.
We walked outside to my Jetta and the sky was cloudless and crystal clear. I had never seen so many stars. I drove to the North Dodge Hy-Vee to buy my first six-pack legally. I don’t remember why I chose the North Dodge store, but it was probably because we had always gotten ice there to fill our cooler when we drank in high school. I grabbed a sixer of Newcastle Brown Ale, the best beer I knew at the time, and walked to the register. There were no cashiers available, so we waited for one of the night shift guys to notice us. He took my ID and slid it through a reader, the only time I ever saw one used until I started shopping at BevMo! recently. He pointed to the screen.
“It says ‘Happy Birthday.’ That’s stupid,” he said. “I’ve never seen that before.”
Wait, I thought. Is he calling the reader stupid or me stupid for buying beer first thing on my birthday?
The rest is history, at least five and a half years worth of it.
Happy 21st, sis!
I was four and a half when she was born and remember bits and pieces of the day I became a big brother. My parents had scheduled a cesarean so there was no “It’s time, dear” or mad dash to the hospital, as there was for my birth. April 24th is Barbara Streisand’s birthday and my mom is a huge fan, so it’s no coincidence Corrie was born on the same day.
We got up really early and my parents dropped me off at my aunt and uncle’s house. It was dark outside as we ate breakfast at the wrap around table they had in the corner of the kitchen. I remember saying something about having a sister, about something I would be able to do, and my uncle started cracking up. He had on his big glasses (all the rage back in 1987) and he looked at my aunt and started laughing. I have no clue what I said.
At the hospital I stood outside the delivery room windows and watched the army of scrub-clad nurses and technicians walk calmly as they worked. They made it look routine. There was someone in the hall with me and I remember it being a friend my dad worked with, yet that’s not who my parents tell me it was. My dad came out a couple times. He had on a hair cap, booties, and white hospital gown. Hanging from his neck was the JVC camcorder he bought before our trip to Los Angeles the September before (we kept using the thing until a few years ago). He filmed the whole thing. My sister’s entrance into the world is documented on VHS-C videotape while mine was held behind the closed doors of an emergency room. My dad wasn’t even there. But it’s not like I’m jealous or anything. I’m on the tape, too: Curiously peeking over the bottom frame of the window, and later sitting on my dad’s shoulders while my chaperone (whoever it was) films.
A couple days later we all drove home for the first time as a family of four. My sister as been annoying ever since. (Aww. She is annoying, but in that little sister way.)
Her 21st takes me back to my 21st. The day before was the longest day of my life. It never ended. At work I kept looking at the clock, hoping it would start moving as it normally did, but it stalled on every minute. It didn’t help that everyone kept telling me “Tomorrow’s the big day!” as if I needed to be reminded. I waited and waited for midnight. My friend and I sat in the living room of our apartment and watched the minutes creep by on the cable box. Finally, the day reset and I was officially able to buy booze.
We walked outside to my Jetta and the sky was cloudless and crystal clear. I had never seen so many stars. I drove to the North Dodge Hy-Vee to buy my first six-pack legally. I don’t remember why I chose the North Dodge store, but it was probably because we had always gotten ice there to fill our cooler when we drank in high school. I grabbed a sixer of Newcastle Brown Ale, the best beer I knew at the time, and walked to the register. There were no cashiers available, so we waited for one of the night shift guys to notice us. He took my ID and slid it through a reader, the only time I ever saw one used until I started shopping at BevMo! recently. He pointed to the screen.
“It says ‘Happy Birthday.’ That’s stupid,” he said. “I’ve never seen that before.”
Wait, I thought. Is he calling the reader stupid or me stupid for buying beer first thing on my birthday?
The rest is history, at least five and a half years worth of it.
Happy 21st, sis!
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