Sass

Today is my sister's birthday. Sass (or Sassafras, if I'm being formal) and I balance each other out in strange ways. We grew up sharing a room, and I was the Felix to her Oscar.

When I would try to go to sleep at 9pm (but toss and be too tense), she would come in at midnight and fall asleep within a few minutes. When I heard her breathing get deep and slow, I'd kick my covers off and grunt, "Ughhh!" to wake her up; she'd have the mellow and sleepy, "What?"

And I'd retort, "You always stomp in here and wake me up!" Of course it wasn't true. Of course, as the middle child, she would apologize. I'd be passive aggressive and work myself up. This was not my finest moment.

She wouldn't want to do things like go near cliff edges or go fast on a mountain bike, which I enjoy with caution. However, when it comes to other risks, Sass is the calm voice to which I turn. She quells my concerns about, "I'm not productive! What about my career?!" with reassurance. When she was a senior in high school and I a freshman, I freaked out over some homework problem or equation involving fission and fusion. I remember that she explained it to me without a lecture or smirk.

Sass is brilliant. I admire that even though she has her Masters degree in Public Policy from Berkeley, when she realized that she really wanted to be a doctor, she switched paths and started the long journey through medical school. Her interests and passions-- more than appearances and pocketbook-- drive her decisions. What is she doing on her birthday? Working at the free clinic that the medical students started and operate.

I can be completely honest with her. I admire her. I love her.

At least...

When I was 17, a French girl named Anais and I spent the summer together. She lived with me and my family in the US for July, and I went to Paris and Les Issambres (near St. Tropez) for August.

One day when we were lying on the beach, Anais told me, "You know, we like you much better than the Irish girl that stayed with us a few years ago."

I said, "Really?"

She said, "Yeah, she used to throw her dirty wash cloths behind the piano."

Hmm

I should have split that last post into a couple of volumes. It was late and I was processing.