My sister

This is my sister, R, who is exactly 11 months and three weeks younger than me, so if you are good at math, you realize we are the same age for one week (the last week of March). She thinks she's really cool to call me during that week and ask how old I am -- as she has done for about the past 30 years.

R got an early Christmas present in the form of a Dodge truck that she picked out for herself and to cart her brood around. I was excited for her to just be driving anything that wasn't a monstrous van with red velvet captain's chairs and lights along the interior (I called it the porno van b/c it looked like one could be shot inside of it). I was kind of surprised at her choice, as I wouldn't have thought of a truck -- albeit a quad-cab -- to be a family vehicle, but R and I have always been completely opposite.

Not only do we look nothing alike, but our personalities couldn't be more different. Oddly, we are quite close -- she is totally and completely my best friend and I can talk to her about anything, as long as one of her three kids aren't screaming into to her ear:) One of the things I most admire about R is her ability to truly get along with anyone and walk into any place and start a conversation with anyone, even the wall if she has to. One of my tests for anyone is if they can get along with my sister and vice versa b/c she's so friendly, even if a little "blonde" at times.

R is also a true case of not forcing someone to go to college, just because he/she is 18. R was a horrible student in high school -- C/D student, took four tries to pass algebra, etc. But, as R got married and popped out some kids, she realized that she really wanted to get into nursing, so she enrolled in school and started doing well. She wound up getting A/Bs in her classes because she found something she wanted to do and cared about.

She graduated in May, but I think her true test as a nurse came when she returned to Hawaii in October to be with our step-dad when he was dying of cancer. She was able to help our mom out with some of the nursing/personal duties -- things that I don't think he was quite comfortable having me or one of my other sibs doing. R didn't hesitate to rub cream on his hands and feet, even though his skin was peeling off. Even on what we could tell would be his last day, when I couldn't bear to be in the room without crying, R was in there doing her regular routine, even having to gag my step-dad when he was choking on his meds. It is strange b/c everyone tells me that I'm the strong and emotional one, the "rock" so-to-speak that will hold things together, but I told R that I don't think there's any way that I could've done what she did -- and she would've done it even without the nursing degree.

I don't think I'll have kids, but if I ever do, I hope to name my girl Elizabeth, which is R's middle name. That is, if she ever gets her kids to stop calling me Aunt Roondog (her nickname for me). And since I revealed that little ditty, I feel it's okay to share that our nickname for R is Chewy b/c her hair reminded us of Chewbacca when we were growing up. Ironically, isn't Chewbacca the one who quietly helps save the day without trying to get all the attention for doing so? How fitting...