Ferris Bueller

I have a brother named Ferris Bueller.

What are the odds, right?

Just kidding, his name is Sam. But he might as well be Ferris Bueller. He has always been the kind of guy that can do anything, get away with everything, and at the end of the day, everyone is just happy to be around him.

I, on the other hand, am like the sister (It's Jean, but most guys call me Shauna). I try all day to find a fault and get him in trouble, but in the end, I'll do anything to help him get away with it.

What is up with that? It is a weird, twisted world I live in.

Anyway, there isn't anyone on the planet that makes me laugh more than him. I am powerless. Truly, I can't fight back to save my life. I just giggle and giggle. It's ridiculous.

When we were younger and we would get into arguments, my dad would make us hold hands. HOLD HANDS, people. Do you know how traumatizing that is for an eight and a ten-year old? I am pretty sure it warped me.  But, it was also highly effective. There is nothing that ruins your social life more than holding hands with your brother.

That is still true today, by the way.

Somehow we survived our adolescence and moved into the painful years of high school.  Even though he was the heartthrob of many teenage girls and played every sport on the planet, and I was the nerd who studied all the time and had her nose broken in the middle of her junior-year musical, he stopped telling everyone I was adopted.

I considered that progress.

And on my 16th birthday, when I was in the throes of insecurity and awkwardness, he brought in a huge box of cupcakes my mom had made and sang to me.

Sure, Ferris Bueller may have sang in downtown Chicago, but that is nothing compared to singing in the middle of a high school cafeteria. The stakes are high and reputations are on the line.

And for that reason, it could very well be one of my favorite moments in all of history.

Danke schön, big brother.