If you were to ask me about my favorite memory of my brother Eric, I probably wouldn't be completely honest with you. I have lots of memories of Eric, but my favorite one might seem completely insignificant. If you asked for my favorite memory, I might tell you about the time that he told me (to my horror) that my dog J.D.'s lack of tail was directly related to the hot dog I just ate and I cried in my room while he begged to come in so he could apologize. I might tell you about the letters I got from Eric while he was on his mission all the way in Korea. I might tell you about the time I went to visit Eric in D.C. and he patiently listened to Michael Jackson's "Don't stop til you get enough" over and over again by my request (if I were being pun-ny I would say, we didn't stop til we got enough) . I might tell you about the time on Christmas eve when Eric dressed in his Elf costume and spread Christmas cheer to basically everyone in Southern Minnesota.
Anyway, if we ever have this conversation and I tell you one of those stories, or any others for that matter, don't believe me, I am lying. Because if I were telling the truth, I would tell you of this memory:
I am standing on the step that divides our kitchen from our living room, and Eric is standing a few feet away from me, and I can't quite remember but he is either dancing in some ridiculous way or serenading me with "Have I told you lately that I love you" by Rod Stewart.
And that my friends, is my brother Eric.
Oh boy do I love that kid!