60 Photos in 60 Days - Day Two

Day Two: a picture of me and the person I have been close with for the longest.

This is Ian, my brother (mentioned in one of yesterday's 15 facts).  Though we've called each other "brother" for about a decade, it really became true when I realized that the ties that bind us have truly superseded our friendship.  That is to say: if Ian and I sopped liking each other (which has happened, but let's say if it happened permanently), we'd still love each other.  Each of us would be - would need to be - some part of the other's life.  We met in first grade, nearly 25 years ago.  When Ian moved to Monterey during the summer between fourth and fifth grade, I felt bereft - though this was probably less because he was my best friend, and more because I often felt he was my only friend.  We kept in touch, and visited each other often.

To describe the entirety of our friendship, or even a slice of his significance to me, would be a losing proposition - I'd never manage to say more than I left out.  But for most of my waking life, Ian has been my friend, my enemy, my foil, my brother, my standard, my negative example, my cheerleader, my teacher, the devil on my shoulder, my debate partner, and a thousand more things I don't have words for. I trust him more than anyone else I know, immediate family included.  I have grown close to others since we met - two others in particular, who have also become friends with Ian, and whom I'm sure I'll feature at some point in time on this little quest. But none have been around so long as Ian.  We can finish each other's sentences, converse in shared looks or entirely in private jokes concerning the word "it" that were generated at a 1988 sleepover.

My brother and I are two sides of the same coin - to know one of us is to know a great deal about the inner workings of the other.  But this picture, taken at my tenth birthday party, is one of my favorites because it so eloquently expresses the outer differences - of race, yes, but also of demeanor.  My reserve, his utter lack of reserve.  My thousand-yard stare, his absolute presence in the moment.  My wish to shy away from attention - his ardent courtship of attention.

This picture is also a reminder of one of my favorite moments from early childhood - the massive battle royale that occurred with those plastic swords in some courtyard at Knott's Berry Farm, not long after this picture was taken.