Happy Birthday Jim

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The best thing about not talking to my brother Jim for a few days is when he says:

"You gotta' hear this."

Then he starts in on the story and before long I'm laughing until my sides ache and the best part of it all is that he's usually front and center of the story doing something that seems insane as he tells it, but is absolutely correct after I get my mind around it.

He's usually right.

His presentation doesn't always match up with how I'd go about getting my way.

But that's all right.

And through the years he's battled back.

Every single day.

When things go wrong he throws more hard work at it.

When things go wrong for someone he loves, he's always there to help.

Always there.

And while he's there fixing, building, repairing or remodeling, he'll usually cook you something when he's done.

It's amazing, actually.

Every once in awhile my kids will ask me for one of the Uncle Jim stories.

They know them all by heart.

"The one where he stopped at the McDonalds drive-thru."

"The one when you guys went to Fredonia for a party."

"The one where he was pulled over for speeding."

And they all laugh, shaking their heads, knowing that every single word is true.

Yet what is really, really cool about all of it is that they know one other thing to be absolutely certain:

Their uncle loves them and would tear down a wall to help them.

Literally.

Happy Birthday, brother.

We all love you.

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