Some big joke was played on all of us. He came in a 6 pound, 21 inch package and on a cold, overcast day. As the story goes, my mother was starting to have strong contractions and had to be rushed to the hospital. I had been promised a ride in my fathers new truck so I obviously threw a fit because who wouldn’t want to ride in a sweet new Isuzu pickup truck? My father then drove me around a few blocks because I had him wrapped around my finger at an early age (only child). I was dropped off at a neighbors so the beast inside my mother could be released. He was given the name Matthew David but the name givers would rather had named something something like Michelle or Megan. Instead of dressing up in frills, he would be given hand-me-down clothing and toys.
20 years ago today I gained a little pest of a brother. I would be subjected to countless hours of torture and being followed where ever I went. I would be forced to include my little brother in the tackle football games that we would play in our yard, only he was so young that he couldn’t be tackled (by anyone other then me that is, and yes, I did tackle him. Hard. He probably deserved it). I was forced to baby sit him when my parents were at work only he would never listen to me. We would box with little boxing gloves that he got for Christmas one year only I could only use my left hand (in fear of the potential homicide). I could go on and on but you get the point.
Years later something crazy happened…we started to actually like each other. There came a time when I realized that we actually like the same stuff, the same type of music, the same type of clothes, hell even the same athletes (you know, because we we both made by the same two people). I know some siblings are tighter then Carl Pohlad’s wallet (RIP, speaking of Carl, would he ever have signed Joey to a $184 million dollar deal? My gut tells me no) but my brother and I were not one of those siblings. Until I went off to college. We grew closer and actually hung out when I was home. He was no longer my pest of a little brother but a friend that I could bullshit with and not have him run to mama (which he did when we were kids…mama’s boy). So on this, your day of birth, I wish you a Happy Birthday Ma-chew. I wouldn’t trade you for any other brother in the world, which is something that I actually tried to do when we were kids… Love ya Bro.
I would say have a drink for me but you can’t do that yet (legally anyway). We’ll sneak one when mom goes to bed when you are out here in May.
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