My sister Emily was born a baby on July 3rd, 1986. Her two most prized possessions were her rattle and cuffed up boyfriend jeans.
When she learned to hold up her neck, she was entered into the Staten Island Infant Sledding Competition [SIISC]. She came in second place because her hood blinded her just as she was approaching the finish. Her sled crashed into the knees of the race’s judge. He wanted to disqualify her. He looked into her eyes and realized she was an innocent baby. He let her stay in the race.
Emily spent many evenings staying up late and drinking with her “friends”. I put “friends” in quotes because they weren’t the best influence on her. Especially that ceramic headed googly-eyed clown.
I was born five months after her first birthday. Lengthwise, I was half her size. Widthwise, I was double her size. I look scared because my eyes were not fully developed yet. I only saw in colorful blurs.
and posing with extremely short bangs.
And getting our JCpenny portrait taken. After watching “The Sound of Music”, we begged my mom to make us dresses out of floral table cloths and lace doilies. She did, but only in exchange for us letting her cut our bangs really short.
Emily learned how to flirt. In ’91, she was diagnosed with Split Personality Disorder. For my parents, it was devastating. For me, it was fun and exciting. In the photo below, she was “Aunt Lucielle” from Detroit.
Here is us at the zoo when we got superglued together.
I sat in a cabinet. Emily was concerned.
Here is us before my sister’s basketball game during the Christmas season. Again, I wore a recycled table cloth.
My sister turned 12 and she started to get hormones. My mom asked her to clean her room and Emily said no. She woke me up at 2am that night and told me we were running away. I grabbed my red checkered long sleeve shirt, and we were off. I just thank God that she knew how to pump gas.
We wore flower hats. I chose to keep my hair up creating the appearance that I was bald.