Dear Roberta,
Thank you for this great photo. There he is. A very cute young man-Bobby. I bet Mom used spit to comb his hair. She always did that to Bob and I. (and we will never forgive her ) . I have a problem and I was hoping that you could help. You are so sweet and helpful every time I have a problem, my adopted sister- cousin lovely sweet, intelligent beautiful human. ( Is it working ? )
My big brother Bob is going to be 90 soon, but you would never know it by the way he acts. He is very much young at heart and full of jokes and laughter. We probably should have a big party for him complete with dancing girls. I could suggest that he could have a dancing girl on each of his knees, but he would probably tell me that at age 90, he is no longer wired for two twenty.
Being 90, is something to be proud of. Don’t ask me why, it just is. Think of all the things you had to go through to become 90. I think our family has very good genes (don’t we Roberta) ?
My problem is, how to acknowledge Bob’s birthday. I could get him one of those birthday cards that points out how old he is, but that’s too easy. That’s like shooting fish in a barrel, there’s no challenge to that. Besides, I would never stoop so low as to point out how old somebody is, because that is a lowly and cowardly thing to do. People who do that, have no soul. If I were to get such a card, I would cry and never stop. Phew, I’m sure glad I’m not one of those people.
That’s why I needed to talk to you Roberta. I was hoping you might be able to think of some clever way that I could tell Bob what a great guy that he is while wishing him a Happy Birthday . .I mean, after all, I’m sure glad I’ve got Bob. He has made me happy all my life in many different ways over the years and I love his worthless hide. I deeply regret my recent hand gestures, but they seemed funny at the time.
One of my best memories occurred when I was around eight years old but it started when I was 4 years old. . Darn my luck if I didn’t get big fat case of Polio. We lived in the Midwest when I was little and Polio was rampaging. Long story short, I caught it. I’m getting to the point of the story, so please bear with me.
My dad was a very smart guy as well as very strong. He built a big beautiful swimming pool by hand pretty much for me so that I could develop my muscles and my lungs. The swimming pool was not built as a luxury, it was therapeutic. However, I must say that everyone loved that swimming pool and constantly it seemed like everybody swam at our house until winter , it was terrific . I eventually swam like a fish.
But in the beginning, I was terrified. I was eight years old and even though I had received swimming lessons, I was still “ascared” of the water. There was no reason that I couldn’t swim other than the fact that I was just lacking the nerve.
This is when my brother tried to kill me. I don’t blame him though because I was a “bad seed “. I am not proud but….. I stole from Bob. When I was age 8, I had very low moral rectitude when it came to cookies. He bought some Girl Scout cookies and he made the mistake of showing me where he put them. Over the following week, I would go get one and suck on its Girl Scout cookie goodness. Eventually, I think I ate all of his cookies and, I know that I’m a creep, and I still feel guilty. But, would this be a reason to try to kill me ? Soon after he uncovered my secret shame, that I scarfed up all of his cookies, I was paddling around in the shallow end of the swimming pool where my feet could touch the bottom and I felt safe. All of a sudden, I felt an arm around me and before you know it, Bob had taken me down to the deep end where he left me stranded and hanging onto the side of the pool wondering what just happened. I wanted to say ,— for the love of God Bob, they were only cookies. I’m sorry I ate them but please don’t kill me. Maybe I can repay you by shining your shoes or something.
Well, he just swam away from me, laughing, and leaving me stuck there at the deep end of the swimming pool, clinging to life like a frightened little baby monkey. He just said “Swim, I know you can “. I really appreciated him not trying to intimidate me by calling me such terms as “Nancy Pants” in an effort to intimidate fear of water out of me. It was nothing like that. There was something more important going on but I was too young to recognize it.
We don’t say I love you very much in our family. We do something that is better — we show it. So, when I was eight years old, Bob gave me a great life lesson — with encouraging words, he got me to face my fears, believe in myself and have confidence. He said “Swim, I know you can”. He was just 17, but he had a great deal of knowledge about life. Probably from observing our terrific dad. He knew I just needed a kick in the pants, so to speak.
I’m an old dude now , but I know what you learn as a kid carries on through life. I think I’ve got a lot more guts than some folks when it comes to life chalenges and I’ve gotten many of life’s rewards by having enough courage to face my fears, believe in myself and have confidence in myself. That was a very important thing for a kid to have truly learned that was recovering from polio and had an awful lot of uncertainty . Some of the things that I have had the courage to try were very cool indeed. “Swim, I know you can” is my life motto, thanks to Bob.
It’s no wonder I look up to Bob and love the guy that he is. Please don’t tell him Roberta because I wouldn’t want Bob to get a swollen head.
Uh oh, just in case Bob actually did want to kill me I think I figured out why. I don’t think it had anything to do with the Girl Scout cookies . I think it was because I fell in love with one of his girlfriends at that time and her name was Bunny. Isn’t it a true sign of brotherly love, when you’re wanting to steal your brother’s girlfriend ? Who can blame me though. I still remember Bunny. She was so pretty and shiny when she swam. I think she knew that this little age eight boy was in love with her because I think she flirted with me just a teensy bit, but please don’t tell Bob. (And don’t laugh !) (Why does everyone laugh when I tell about Bunny and me ? )
Anyway Roberta, Please try to help me think of any way that we can celebrate Bob’s birthday, something really spiffy, let me know. Well, I’ll talk later, take good care of you, you’re the only you I’ve got..
I love you — — Jim
