09 April 2010


You're eighteen.
That's cool, I guess.
I remember when you were 2 1/2 and you ran head-on into the stove with a pillowcase over your head, pretending to be a ghost.  And now you have a dimple on one cheek.
I also remember when you were turning nine, and your number one birthday wish was to have all your siblings in the same town and home.  We happily obliged.

I don't approve of your brightly colored skinny pants or your v-neck shirts or your Sperry Top-Siders. 
Your preoccupation with fixie bikes and hip-hop that was popular when I was in elementary school is a little too much Stuff White People Like, even for me.
Of the five of us, I'd say you're the sweetest.
You're a pretty good brother.
You're a damn good uncle.
You're even a good friend.
I love you.
I hope your birthday's awesome.



James and Mom


James & Elliot