I don't know what to write about...

Eric threatened to destroy his computer if I didn't write something today, so I promised him I would. But I'm not sure I should take his threat seriously. I mean, to be honest, if Eric's computer was destroyed, it wouldn't be the end of the world. It's a barely-functioning piece of machinery -- probably held together with duct tape and chewing gum and toothpicks -- and it's made up of various parts of old, dead computers. I think he calls it Frankencomputer... or Computerstein... something like that. The last time I was visiting Eric's Chicago apartment, the door buzzer rang... and through the intercom I could hear a cacophony of voices engaged in what can only be described as angry mob behavior. And I, not being the kind of person to simply open the door to strangers, looked over the balcony to see who was out on the street. To my surprise, it was villagers... villagers with pitchforks and torches. Of course I didn't let them in... I didn't even know Chicago HAD villagers. So really, I think it's only a matter of time before Frankencomputer is destroyed, anyway. But since I promised Eric I would write something, I might as well write about Eric.

Eric has been my brother for as long as I can remember. No, seriously -- my very earliest memory is of the day Eric was born, when my grandparents came to my house to watch me while my parents were at the hospital. My grandmother gave me a piece of toast with jam for breakfast, and there was a tiny little black speck in the jam. So I refused to eat it. That was the day I began my life as a big sister. (That was also the day I began a lifetime of picky eating... but that's another story for another time...)

Apparently, Eric and I were some kind of bizarre freak children, because from the moment we were brother and sister, we got along famously. None of that "sibling rivalry" people are always talking about... no screaming matches... no crazy fights. We hung out together, watched TV together, shared our toys, and looked out for each other. And I thought nothing of it -- I figured that's the way brothers and sisters were supposed to treat each other. Until, that is, we moved to New Jersey when I was in eighth grade and Eric was in fifth. In our scary new town filled with new people, Eric and I only knew each other -- so of course when it was time to ride the school bus, we decided to sit next to each other. But sitting with your brother, I found out, was a major eighth grade faux pas. "You actually LIKE your brother?" another eighth grader asked me. "I beat mine up on a daily basis. Just for fun." To my amazement, this seemed to be the general consensus. Beating up your siblings: totally normal behavior. Hanging out with your siblings because you like them: totally nerdy behavior.

But somewhere along the line I decided that I just didn't CARE if it was nerdy to like hanging out with my brother, because... well, because my brother is COOL. I mean, maybe all those kids in eighth grade had stupid, boring, unimaginitive brothers, and that's why they couldn't stand them. However, MY brother is intelligent, fun, and likes to make napkin bunnies... When he was younger, he used to trip over his own feet, and randomly run into tables and walls... He once broke his thumb playing with a NERF ball -- and now he's a police officer so he's allowed to carry a gun (maybe they don't know about the nerf ball story)... My brother is the only person I know who has managed to have some sort of accident in a fire truck, an ambulance, AND a police car. (Now THAT is some serious dedication toward the wanton destruction of emergency vehicles)... When he was in high school, he frequently smuggled menus out of New York City restaurants -- he had menus for places like Mamma Leone's and the Yankee Clipper stashed away in his closet... My brother is also the only person I know who was able to flip a car in a DRIVEWAY -- and he wasn't even IN it... so I suppose Eric is not only cool, he's completely INSANE as well. Which, in my opinion, is a good thing. Life is much too boring if it's lived sanely.

One of my favorite silly Eric memories concerns the comic strip Bloom County. Eric and I both loved that strip, and when we heard it was coming to an end, it was a sad day. The final full-color Bloom County comic strip appeared in the paper one Sunday morning, and Eric had the idea that we should copy the entire thing onto a big piece of posterboard. So he and I drew it, by hand, onto the posterboard. There was plenty of room to blow everything up to giant proportions, but we were careful to keep the drawing to scale. We colored the entire thing with colored pencils, and then surveyed our handiwork. It really did look like we'd managed to take that last Bloom County comic strip and enlarge it to poster size. We were quite impressed with ourselves. So impressed, in fact, that Eric kept that hand-drawn poster for years -- until the colors faded away and the stiff paper was curled and falling apart. I think it was hanging on the closet door, where the New York City restaurant menus were hidden...

I guess I just feel sorry for all those kids who liked to "beat up" their brothers on a regular basis. Because maybe they missed out on spending time with a friend. It's way more fun to be your brother's friend than your brother's tormentor... well, you know -- MOST of the time. :) And I'd better post this before the pillaging villagers come to take Frankencomputer away... for all I know, it's sputtering out its last cyber-connection as I type. But at least I'll know it's not because I didn't keep my promise to write something for Eric...