Happy Birthday, Bucky!

I remember it like it was yesterday. My father came home from the hospital and announced, “It’s a girl.”

Man, I was so thrilled! I’d wanted a sister for my entire life. A sister! I had three brothers at that point. It was about time there was another girl in the family.

Well, most of you know Bucky. No matter how many dresses my mother put on her she was not going to act girlie. She always seemed to have the drive to want to keep up with the guys.

Bucky usually was the ringleader of her friends, too. When they played some kind of make-believe game she always assigned their parts to them. She was pretty creative and inventive about it.

Girlie toys weren’t for her, either. I had gotten a lovely little plastic vanity when I was younger. Of course, it went to her. It had a flip-up lid with a mirror and open section for makeup, brushes, etc. Well, Bucky, with her “office supplies” obsession turned it into her desk.

She was also precocious. She and I were in a play together when she was about seven. When anybody flubbed or forgot a line, she knew what it was supposed to be. Getting up on stage in front of people never was difficult for her. No big surprise, huh?

There are so many stories that could be told. I suppose I should check with her before I tell them, though. I don’t mean that she’d be embarrassed by them. It’s just that she might want to do the telling herself. I’m not going to incur the wrath of Bucky. Rum cake only goes so far.

Bucky, I’ve gotta tell you that I love you. And I’m still glad, forty years later, that I finally got a sister.