Monday, January 28, 2013

Respect your Elder

Meet Tommy. He is my happy-go-lucky, awesome cousin. But sometimes I call him Thomasina, because I believe names are not something that should be set in stone. He is also one month and twelve days older, a fact of which he likes to flaunt, hence the title of this blog.)
In high school, Tommy went to one of the all-boy high schools, and I went to one of the all-girls one. He's really bad at answering phones and responding to text messages, so besides family events and showing up on his doorstep with ice cream on his birthday, the only time I saw him was at high school dances. I'm not sure if you can tell, dear readers, but I like taking pictures. So every dance I would scout him out and we would take our biannual cousin dance picture.
This is us circa 2006 at an Ursuline dance.
This tradition only fell to pieces once, when I traveled to Connecticut for a regatta instead of going to prom (not thinking to tell him) and he spent a good deal of the night searching for me. Whoops. 

We lived next door to each other our sophomore of college, and it was really nice being able to see him every once and a while on my way to class or to have a beer on the front lawn. 
He's pretty cool; I think I'll keep him.
Thanksgiving circa 2011. (This really is the most recent photo I could find...)
In college, he went through brief intervals of working at my dad law firm with me. It was always a surprise- never knowing if or when he'd show up- so I may have looked a bit like this when I saw him through my office window...
* Quenching my excitement* Hey cousin, hey. Welcome back

This week is dear Thomasina's last week at the office as he is off to pursue his first big boy job and I am sad. So I like to think of fun ways to barge into his office and start conversations, even though it is neither the time nor the place. Here is just one example:

K: So I hear you have a cookie for me.
T: I- What? No... *checks pockets* Who told you that?!
K: No one. I just really wanted a cookie.

Then he gives me boy advice and we talk about his belief of the imminent demise of cursive as a mode of writing. Of which I am not sold, since there are people out there like my mom who still teach calligraphy as well as cursive. But to that Tom looked at me straight in the face and said, "No way." After a failed attempt at trying to describe calligraphy tools, we googled calligraphy and he sighed. "Oh that's calligraphy... I was thinking you were saying she could write in hieroglyphics."


So long and thanks for all the fish.

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