Today is my little brother’s birthday. 37 years old....don’t that make you wanna punch him? I was 11 years old when our mother poked her head into me and my brother’s bedroom and said to come out, she had an announcement to make. We had been playing one of our made up games: basketball, on our knees, rolled up socks for a ball and, perched on the dresser, the support weighed down by books, a real metal basketball rim. Which, of course, would constantly fall on top of our heads. Bright fellas. How I made it to 9th grade before READ MORE HERE...
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