When I did a campus tour at Miami University (my alma mater) back when I was in high school, my family came with me to get a feel for the college. After touring some classrooms, stopping by a dining hall and checking out the football stadium, our tour guide turned to my family, looked right at my younger brother, Barry, and said, "So, when do you graduate?" Yes, that's right, our college-aged tour guide asked my middle school-aged brother when he was graduating from high school and coming to Miami. I was embarrassed but completely used to being mistaken for the younger sibling.
At 16 years old, I looked like I was about 10, and my 12-year-old brother was taller than me. And at 26, my 22-year-old brother is A LOT taller than me.
I don't know how it happened but Barry is a foot and a half taller than me. And he puts it to good use. He plays professional basketball in Madeira, a Portuguese island in the Atlantic. Cool, right?! With any luck, my family and I will be visiting Madeira at the beginning of next year to see my YOUNGER brother play basketball overseas.
After 22 years of watching my brother succeed at his game, I have to say I'm OK with being the shorter sibling. I'm so proud of the way Barry handles himself on and off the court, and I'm especially proud of the courage he has to follow his dreams.
Plus, I never have to worry about reaching for stuff on the top shelf cause he gets it for me. :)