My Irish Twin of a Brother

Today the clocks shift. My Irish twin of a brother leaves me to be 33 on my own.

He is afraid; he is very, very afraid:

You've got to understand. I share a mind with this man.
When he is struck, I feel pain.
When I hear a joke in New York, he breaks into laughter in Pennsylvania.
When, thousands of miles away, he stirs up fried potatoes with rosemary, my mouth waters.

Fashionable from the earliest age, this is the guy who taught me how to swing a bat.

Sure, there were some anger management problems...
but ultimately, he cleaned up quite nicely:

Through bad haircuts and invisible casts:

Through unbearable homework and many degrees:

even when we've had nothing, we've had each other.

O, my brother, my hero!

To you the happiest of all birthdays!
(and the birds say:
and many more!!!)