Happy Birthday, Sippy

You are now 68 years old and I still don’t know where your nickname Sippy came from…. our childhood street perhaps? Mississippi Avenue? Who knows. I called you Fou Fou. Your friends called you Abendale… and who the hell knows what that ever meant… and mom and dad called you when they needed orders delivered for the store by whatever name got your attention at the moment. I don’t know about you, but my favorite was when mom would stutter our the beginning of all our names as she vainly searched for the right one and then finally, simply, said, “You… you with the hair on your head. I’m talking to you!”

Happy birthday, big bro. May you always remain older than me so that I never have to be the oldest in the family.