The Butcher

The Butcher’s birthday is coming up soon. He’ll be 24. I just don’t know what’s weirder than watching your youngest brother, who still seems very young to me, turning ages that I felt very adult at. Twenty-Four. I believe I was in grad school. My other brother was already a dad. It’s a very adult age–24–and yet the Butcher is still my little brother.

Well, it makes me feel better about how I’ve been totally unable to pull my life together in any kind of orderly way. I mean, give it six years and when the Butcher is turning 30, I’ll be able to look back and say, “Wow, thirty is young.”

Anyway, I’m debating about what to get him. Do I go for America or the newest Grand Theft Auto or perhaps a weekend up with his hero, Miss J.’s husband?