BROTHERS AND SISTERS

Meet my siblings. I have three: two sisters and a brother. I’m the eldest, therefore the wisest. I’m the responsible one, the keeper of the keys, the executrix of the parents’ wills. They call me The Janitor, in that I will sweep up and turn the lights out when everyone has left.

Then comes Louise, whose birthday was on Monday. Louise is French, in every sense of the word. She moved to Paris many years ago, married a Parisian man, learned to speak French better then the natives, drinks champagne all the time and knows how to tie a scarf. She is, in fact, my fashion idol, although I can’t handle the heels. She is a creative director and travels all over the world, advising people how to make things look better. Happy birthday, Sledge. You are divine.

Andrew, the only boy, lives in Dusseldorf, Germany. His past is more checkered than a New York cab. He owns and runs a wine retail business and a craft brewery. He is deeply intelligent, hilariously funny, and dangerously attractive to women. He lost his larynx to throat cancer a while back, and just came down with another bad case of cancer, which he has, against all odds, survived. He has two small children from his second marriage named Milo and Oona, who are cute as strudel and twice as delicious.

Kathryn, or Katie, or Kate, is the youngest. Katie has also had more lives than a cat. She is a gypsy, having lived all over the place and done all sorts of things: Celtic Studies scholar, M.B.A., dot com startup, couch surfer, scuba instructor, activist, political candidate, environmentalist, single mother. She has a gorgeous son named Sam who travels the world. If you meet a 6 foot 6 snaggle toothed charmer on your journey, that’s him. Tell him to call his mother.

So that’s us. I have, of course, painted us all in broad strokes, so as not to offend, although only Katie reads this blog. I can’t say we are super close, as we have not lived on the same continent for 25 years. In fact, we have only been together in the same room four times in our adult lives, the last time for Dad’s funeral last summer. But we keep tabs on each other, and make an effort. I was supposed to meet Louise in Budapest this fall, but can’t get away. I am, however, going to see Carol Burnett with Katie in October, because we suspect she’s our real mother. Just kidding, although stranger things have happened. Stay tuned.