He's not heavy, he's my brother

It's true. Lee got all the skinny genes in the family, but we still love him anyway. And since today is his birthday, here's a shout out to my little brother.

I have so many great pictures of him (the one from our trip to Mazatlan with the iguana on his head? the one of him doing his dishes in his bathtub in St. Petersburg? the one of the "train wreck" on his tongue at my mission farewell party?) but if I had to choose just one, it would be one of us together, above. This was at the Salt Lake airport, circa 1993, less than a year after I got home from my mission, and as he was leaving to Russia for his. I was so proud of him.

Lee is one cool dude. He's laid back, funny, and loyal. He's a pilot and a runner. He loves U2, Ren and Stimpy, and Calvin and Hobbes. He's a wonderful dad and husband. We've had to share a bedroom twice (right before I left on my mission, and right before he left on his), and we still get along (even after that one time I rearranged the furniture while he was working at Domino's and he got home at three in the morning and tripped over everything in the dark).

Back in the day before our family got so big we had to share a room, we had this weird arrangement where he had to go through my bedroom in order to get to his. But he was always considerate and respected my privacy (except for that one time his best friend was over and they came barrelling up the stairs while I was dressed only in a towel). On Saturday nights, we'd run to the supermarket down the street, get a two liter bottle of Cherry 7-Up and a bag of Doritos, and hole up in his room watching SNL on a 13" black and white TV with rabbit-ears antennae. Good times.

Now he lives in Utah, works out of Wyoming, and we haven't watched SNL together in decades. That's okay, because SNL isn't as funny as it used to be.

Happy birthday, bro!