I have a problem, and it’s happened before: I write a column, and the next thing I know there’s an in-depth article in some other magazine on the same topic. I realize it’s just chance, but when I first picked up this month’s issue of Vanity Fair and saw it was devoted to the topic of sisters, I became convinced Graydon Carter, the editor, had invaded my brain and stolen my idea. Once calmer thoughts prevailed, I realized that while I might be a fan, he doesn’t know I exist. But it was my idea first, I swear! My sister has been on my mind a lot lately.
Her birthday is coming up. She just had her first granddaughter, which is a huge deal. She has four sons and one grandson, then bingo, she got her girl! Additionally, my sister-in-law recently lost her sister, and the idea that anything would ever happen to mine paralyzes me. I come from a large Irish family, but I have only one sister. I adore my brothers (most of them) but my sister—older by 18 months—is more like my twin than just my sibling.
We aren’t those cute, look-, dress-, think-alike sisters. The only reason you would guess we are sisters is our large, honking laugh. That’s it. Our political views are opposite, and so is our taste: she loves Lilly Pulitzer, and I go in there only for her birthday present. She is artistically gifted, I am artistically challenged. But put us together with our mother, and the only thing she says is, “Stop it you two!” Which just makes us misbehave more.
And talk about being protective of each other … I will cut you if you hurt her! Keep in mind, I am a 56-year-old woman who lives in Clayton, and I am not even sure what those words mean. Nor do I know what I would cut you with—but when it comes to watching out for someone, there are three people I would physically assault another person on behalf of: my son, daughter and sister. (My husband can take care of himself.)
Oddly, she also is the only person who scares me. Even though my sister is tiny—like throw-her-over-my-shoulder-and-run-with-her tiny. But she scares me, and she is the only person who can tell me what to do. Seriously. (My husband has given up.) But Teresa can still tell me what I should and shouldn’t do, and I listen because I am afraid if I don’t she will be mad. And I don’t know what happens if she gets mad. (Actually, I do know: it is ugly and involves objects flying in the air.)
So, why this ode to sisters between Mother’s Day and Father’s Day? It is not to create another holiday. (FYI there is a Sister’s Day Aug. 7, and I expect gifts.) I guess I am just feeling grateful for what I have. For most of us, our sisters were our first friend and playmate. So if you haven’t talked to your sister in awhile, give her a call. If you don’t have a sister, I’m sorry but you can’t have mine. I know this week’s column is relatively snark-free, but don’t worry, I’ve got a whole lot of things to say about brothers.
Contact Patty at phannum@townandstyle.com.
