The time has come once again to note the anniversary of my brother’s birth. On this day in 1987, he was cut from our mother’s body, having somehow gotten his umbilical cord wrapped around himself in such a way as might well have killed him had he proceeded along the traditional route into this world. As his older brother, I want to make some quip–and there are a lot of them that suggest themselves to me–about having set a precedent that he has followed for thirty-eight years since, but that would be more of a jerk move than I really ought to make. So I’ll not do that.

What I will do, instead, is wish my little brother another happy birthday and note my hopes that he’s got a lot more of them coming. So, Happy Birthday!