My Big Brother is 50!

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I've always looked up to my big brother, and that's not as easy as it sounds.

He's shorter than me.

He's also balder than me.

But he's now 50 years old.

And let me tell you...he's a great man, a terrific father, a wonderful son, uncle and brother.

And if I didn't say all that he'd kick the crap out of me.

There's a wonderful photo in my mother's photo album. It's a shot of John, kneeling on my arms, throwing punches at me on the living room floor. I'm kicking, screaming and trying to cover up, and the only other thing you need to know about the photo was that my mother snapped the picture!

Yeah.

Let's capture a shot of John kicking Cliff's ass.

But the mind is a funny thing.

I remember being beside John on the swing set seeing who could fly that swing seat higher.

He won.

I recall running away with him and we escaped to the car that was parked in the backyard. We must've been like 6 & 7. We ran back home after we were stung by bees.

Growing up we were best friends. We were separated by a mere 11 months and people thought that we were twins. It's amazing to me now that people thought we looked so much alike back then because I've blossomed into a very handsome man...and well...I'm trying to be nice...it's his birthday.

And my bro means the world to me.

I'm a blessed man. Our family came with free best friends, and I count all my siblings as my best friends. My heart fills up when I think about them. Every single one of them.

So.

Say Happy Birthday to my brother John if you get a chance.

50.

It seems like we were on those swings just about 15 minutes ago.

I still have bruising from the photo-op with my back on the floor.

Happy Birthday to a Great Man.

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