Jay has always been a comedian. Not that he’s funny, but he thinks he is and so we laugh. (Honestly all my brothers are funny. Their senses of humor are different, but what they have in common is that they’re sick. Me too.)
When Jay was 2 years old, he got glasses. He looked so adorable. Even with glasses he didn’t see well and would sit in front of the TV, so close that others couldn’t see over him. If the TV was perched high enough, then all was well.
When a deep voice in a public service announcement asked, “Do you wear seatbelts?” Jay replied, “No, we hold on.”
When we received an angel food cake from someone after our sister Jill’s funeral, Jay proudly told everyone that Jill sent it. He was a few months past four at the time.
I could go on and on about his comments when he was tiny, my favorite being what he said when he saw Mom taking a bath. But that’s not for public consumption.
Jay was born in his own little world and has lived there ever since. He’s a husband to Andrea and a dad to Suzie and Liza. They inhabit his world sometime; but float in and out to join the rest of us.
But what a wonderful cockeyed viewpoint he has—he makes us laugh a lot. He’s written some songs and played the guitar while we all sang them—my favorite was the Bad Burger Blues.
Happy birthday, Jay. I love you.
(It’s also my son-in-law Todd’s birthday and my ex-husband John’s birthday. But the blog the past few days is about my brothers, so I’m just talking about Jay today.)