March 23, 1949.
My sister, Zola was born.
She’s three years, three months and three days older than I.
333, half of 666, I guess that means she’s only half evil!
But, anyway, I digress. We’re pretty close. We were the closest in age of all the kids, and we are of the “same generation”. Translation: we became teenagers in the 1960s.
The Beatles, The Stones, The Beach Boys, Ricky Nelson…all that stuff.
We never fought much.
From the looks of that picture, we were as poor as she says we were, or whomever dressed me had no taste!
I think it was her.
She was bossy. But most big sisters are.
She was very UPset that I was born without teeth. Seriously, Mom had a time trying to keep her from feeding me chewable stuff.
We played a lot.
I remember standing on the wall at the foot of the drive way on Farmersville Pike watching for her to come over the hill from school. I was bored with out her.
She hated her hair, so Mom gave her a perm. She looked like a French Poodle, and hated it more.
She was a cheerleader, and practiced her “deer jumps” for hours. I actually got pretty good at them too.
Her first car was the coolest ever; a 1964 Baby Blue Thunderbird.
We still talk a lot. We’re close.
Happy Birthday, Zola. As big sisters go, you’re in the top two!
My birthday wish for you is that the line at the Social Security office isn’t too long today.