Tiny little baby brothers Dan and Tim are on a plane right now to Iceland! I myself was there three years ago nearly to the date, gallivanting around and eating tiny lobsters and standing beneath waterfalls and freezing in Magie’s mother’s winter coats near various glacier lagoons. The very thought of my brothers driving around and doing the same things fills me with GIANT GIDDY FEELINGS OF ENVY AND JOY WHICH IS TO SAY, JOYNVY. I’LL JUST CONTINUE TO SIT HERE AND MAKE UP WORDS. HAVE FUN BROSTETTERS!!!
My brothers and I are all two years apart. It makes it easy to know exactly how old they are, and also my own age, when I’m really stuck. As long as I remember how old one of them is, the rest of our ages, including my own, are a rudimentary math problem away. About 900 times through my teens and twenties, I thought to myself: one day, we will all be in our thirties, and that will be insane. It took forever to happen. Nearly 30 years, you might say. In fact, youngest brother Tim turned eight for ten consecutive years. But finally — TODAY, TIM IS 30, which means I am almost 34, which means Pete is 36, which means Dan is almost 32, which means WE ARE ALL IN OUR 30′s, which means we are definitely, 100% no longer children regardless of how much string cheese I still consume. I would just like to go on record on behalf our parents and applaud each and every one of us for paying our own rent, making sensible fashion and life choices, and just being supremely good at getting older. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TINY TIM! WELCOME TO OUR DECADE!
Tiny giant Marine officer man baby brother Tim sent us some pictures today of his morning commute. He’s currently on a massive ship, en route to Norway, with a bunch of amphibious sea to land vehicles:
It looks like a still from an epic TV show / movie / movie show about the end of the world, or perhaps just the world as it is, right Now. MEANWHILE, IN NORMAL MORNING WORLD: IN AN EPIC ATTEMPT TO REGAIN CONTROL OF MY PHYSICAL WORLD, I ORGANIZED MY DESKTOP KIND OF:
And it was my normal world version of moving an amphibious sea to land vehicle from one side of the planet to another. Because: those who cannot Do have little office pods and we sit and write stories about the end of the world or perhaps just right Now, clinging to the Doers we know for details of their Doings.
Me: OH NO!
Me: Weather forecast for Bald Head Island for bro’s wedding says thunderstorms.
Morrison: THUNDERSTORM WEDDING!!!
Me: Okay, actually yes.
I found out this morning that one of the Marines killed yesterday – Gunny Sergeant Thomas Sullivan — served with my little brostetter in Korea. Tim shared this picture above of his buddy — he’s the festive marine slash snowman on the far right. Tim was gone over last Christmas, and it was tough, but he promised us over Skype that he and his Marines were celebrating accordingly, apparently in MASSIVE SNOWMEN COSTUMES, which I am ENDLESSLY DELIGHTED BY. Isis and gun control and worry and fear and WHAT THE CRAP IS HAPPENING IN THIS COUNTRY aside — I’m moved by how Marines commemorate each other when they pass away. It is always an honorable death, no matter what. There’s no Why God Why, there is just acceptance, and a sort of peace. Tim shared some beautiful words about his bud, and wished him to Rest Easy in Fiddler’s Green — a mariner’s afterlife where there is unlimited drink and dance. It’s probably a special Marine thing that I’m not allowed to say, but hell. On behalf of my bros: Rest Easy, Thomas. Thank you for all that you did. I found these words for you:
At Fiddler’s Green, where seamen true
When here they’ve done their duty
The bowl of grog shall still renew
And pledge to love and beauty.
If you are tired of me forming bad puns out of my last name you have COME TO THE WRONG PLACE.
Little Brostetter Dan graduated this weekend from UNC Chapel Hill (TAR!) with a double degree, a doublegree, in Business and Law. As if I could be even more proud / impressed, his special decorative jumprope marks the fact that he is also a Veteran.
He is off to NYC in July to start Businessing at a Business job, and then maybe also later, he will Law a little bit. I must say, he has always been the smartest, most rational of the kidstetters, somehow able to ace everything while barely trying. Always with a clear focus and drive towards ‘be in charge; have boat; hang out.’ Dan, you’re gettin it. And I couldn’t be more proud.
As many times as Tim explains to me what exactly it is that he does in the Marines, what his position is, what his responsibilities are, I can never quite wrap my brain around it, the reality, the logistics. I admire it, I am proud of him for doing it, but I will never full get it. Our phone call this morning:
Me: Heyyyyyy brother, what’s new?
Tim: I’m back from Marine-ing, I’m now Marine-ing in a new place. Hold on, gotta send a Marine thing to another Marine.
Me: All good. How’s it going?
Tim: Pretty good, we’ve just been Marine-ing, getting ready to move out and Marine. No plans to Marine far away any time soon, but we’re shipping out to SoCal for Marine training in a few weeks, so.
Me: YOU’LL BE IN CALIFORNIA?! Can I come see you?!
Me: Why not?
Tim:….Because I’m going to be Marine-ing. The whole time.
Me: But maybe for just a minute we go to Disneyland.
Tim:….No. We have to Marine.
Me: Aw, c’mon, they won’t even let you leave like just a little bit?
Tim: No, we have to protect the country.
Tim: This makes me not want to protect you.
Me: Yep! I get it.
I am loving Bro time with Dan, who is an excellent tour guide, who walks just as fast as me, if not faster. And To my JOY AND DELIGHT, it turns out that he is a most suitable museum guide, too. Not only did he slay a few semesters of Art History in college, so he actually knows things, his commentary is on point. He took me through the Prado today, which is elegantly crammed full of Spanish, German, French, and English art spanning centuries, El Greco and Rembrandt and Zurburan, Enfentas y Kings. Some favorite guidance from my tour guide:
All these girls have their cans out.
There’s a hermaphrodite. It’s a girl with a dick.
When I noted that a certain statue was missing a certain appendage: The dicks always fall off. I bet you can’t find one dick in here.
….I in fact could barely find any dicks.
I booked my ticket to go see tiny little baby brother Dan in Madrid next month! He’s studying law there for a semester, and I am going to join him for Paella, wandering, and really bad spanish. When I did my European solo vision quest, at the ripe of age of 22*, I skipped Spain, so I am so stoked that I finally get to go, and also that I get some sister y brother time with Dan. Estoy muy emocionado! Me encanta el traductor de google! Donde seta el pescado?
* THAT WAS TEN YEARS AGO. Had my life taken a different path, I could have, like, A TEN YEAR OLD CHILD right now. What I have instead:
- a very nice set of pastel knives
- a wafflemaker
- nice slippers
- a watering can
- a ticket to Spain