IT’S MY (TWIN) BIRTHDAY

Fifty two years ago today, I was born in Houston, Texas, just twenty months after my sister, Suzanne. I’m told that we got along very well though we are very distinct individuals. She loved dresses, I preferred cowboy boots. She played with dolls, I loved my brown Tonka truck. She colored inside the lines, I caught frogs in jars. On my fifth birthday, something radical happened . . . a third sister was born! “Your little birthday present came today!” Honey and Papa breathed with reverence. “I didn’t ask for a baby” I whispered grudgingly. Seven year old Suzanne was thrilled—another doll to play with. I thought babies were boring—Amy wasn’t any fun. A few days later, I went to kindergarten and after that, I have absolutely no memories of my sister for a few years. I’m told we got along very well (even though she's REALLY unique!). Suzanne and I played school, Amy dressed the cat in doll clothes. Suzanne and I cheered at football games, Amy went to Gran's house to make pralines. Amy was obsessively neat, I was creatively messy. Suzanne and I left for Baylor, Amy . . . a few more years I don't remember.

I do have memories of what happened every year around our birthday. Money and time were tight and our mom wasn’t going to make two birthday cakes or hold two birthday parties the same week . . . so began the illusion of the twin birthday. One year, Amy got to choose the cake; the next year, I could choose. One year Amy got to have a birthday party; the next year was my turn. In my mind, that really stunk. Suzanne’s birthday was December 27 and she got the full treatment two days after Santa came. The only redeeming thing about sharing a birthday with Amy was the several years she was convinced that we would cease to have a twin birthday if she didn’t do exactly what I said. I also may have fabricated something about finding her in the gutter and deciding to let her share my birthday since we weren’t certain when she was born. If you’ve ever read The Birth Order Book, you’ll recognize that I was the quintessential middle child!

You’ll be relieved to know that I finally outgrew those childish attitudes and began to enjoy the novelty of being born on the same day as my sister. Most years, Amy sends me a card that says “Happy [one year older than I really am] Birthday”; my annual reminder that she’ll always be five years younger. Revenge works. Now that we’ve lived 661 miles apart for twenty two years, I’d give anything to share a birthday cake or party with her.

My birthday wish this year? I’d love to meet a number of people who were born the same day, same year as me. In my lifetime, I’ve only met one, and he married my cousin Bonnie. It’s a cosmic feeling to know that someone else entered the world on exactly the same day as you—that's a real twin birthday!! So if you and I happen to share August 30, 1956 (or any other year), let’s celebrate the gift of life together in wonder.