Holy Cuppin' Cakes

My brother just got engaged. He proposed to his girlfriend Jennifer while they were visiting her family in Cape Breton Island.

They've been dating since I was a senior in college - five years of confusion and delight. He pursued; she ran. They got together, she ran. She pursued, he stayed. And then, aha, they figured it out. They were meant for each other. And that's what all the drama had been about.

We're all ecstatic. My mom's glowing, my dad's giddy, and my other brothers are full of manly good will. Even though I'm younger, I'm so proud. Almost like our roles are reversed, and I'm watching him grow up. This is the brother who used to chase me down in the hallway of our house in California (I was eight, he was fourteen), sit on my chest, and fart on me. Not quite on the face, but definitely making contact with the sternum.

He's also the brother who averted a family feud by lighting up his fart during vacation in Yosemite. We were in the final stretch of a hotly contested game of Monopoly and tensions were running high. Joel knew just the thing. He turned off the light, flipped onto his back, and let out enough fire to put any dragon's breath to shame. Did I mention we were staying in canvas tents.


Rewind a little further. Some of my earliest memories of freedom involved copying Joel. He knew how to sweet talk his way into anything and had privileges I could only dream of. TV and sugar were off-limits to me, but if Joel was doing it, suddenly I was flying under the radar. So I'd pour a bowl of cereal, pull up a cushion, and immerse myself in whatever marine documentary he happened to be watching. If it was Sunday afternoon after church, I'd pretend to laugh along to the "The Three Stooges."

In high school, I used to steal his clothing. I thought he was perfect and hoped the magic would rub off. He never got mad to find his favorite tie-dyed t-shirt or beat-up Levis missing. I subconsciously copied his messy, engineer-ish handwriting, which he in turn copied from Dad. It took me years to figure out that by the time I had entered a particular phase, eager to rant, he was just getting over it. But he never let on.

Throughout college break ups, I'd call him up on the west coast and leave incoherent messages on his answering machine. In extreme cases, I'd do some frantic searching on Priceline and hop a flight to San Francisco. I spent Superbowl XXXVI with Joel and his friends as the Patriots beat the Rams. He had struggles of his own but never burdened me with more than I could handle.

Our relationship has always been about humor, loyalty and growth. And to celebrate his engagement to Jennifer, I want to send them a gift. They live together in L.A. and I've been meaning to get them a house-warming present for a while. I was thinking of the Jesus Pan. Jesus would want them to have pancakes with His Image on them, don't you think?