From Ninja Turtles to the Altar

I met Jude Harter on the back of my dad’s pickup truck. He was all of about 6, nearly the age of my son now. I eyed him up and down, and within minutes decided to dub him “Jude Farter.”

If it helps to explain it, I was only 8, but this freckled tot on my dad’s truck was going to soon become my baby brother. His mom married my dad, and we were bonded ever since.

His life as my brother didn’t get much easier from there. We nearly killed our dog sledding down School Street hill, and then our neighbor by mixing potions of cleaning solution and perfume.

No matter what, one thing was clear to me—he was my brother. In our family, words like “step” or “half” have totally dissolved. Instead, we are who we are, and we love who we love, and that makes us family. And you never go against the family.

Jude and I were the best of friends, and sometimes there was no one else in the world that could relate to me as well as he could. I remember running down the hallway in the middle of a Saturday Night Live episode to relay the latest skit we’d seen, on well past our bedtimes.

I remember building Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Technodromes and blaming our sister for the Play-Doh on the ceiling over the basement bar. I’ll always remember it was my brother that saved me by running to get help while my sister ate a popsicle as I bled nearly to death all over the local playground slide.

No matter what, we had each other’s backs. And we still do to this day, and always forever after.

It is hard to watch your baby brother step up to an alter and say “I do.” It is hard to admit we’ve all grown up.

This July, he did just that and married the love of his life, Ashley. I was happy to have another sister, but it was tough to watch. I wanted time to stop. I wanted to watch Jem and Transformers, not a wedding.

My parents, sister and a groomsman had to stop on the way to the rehearsal to pick up more beer. A few AJ Texas Hots, and we felt prepared. We “tailgated” in front of the church to make sure we were ready for the night.

It helped on the big day being able to stand at the altar as a bridesmaid along with my sister, Ali. We giggled through the ceremony, cracking jokes at how nervous he looked and wondered if their unity candle would catch either his hand or her veil on fire. They were married without incident.

I hate to say it, but it seems we are grown-ups now. Another generation is on the way, and it is our turn to teach them. I know the one true lesson I’ll have to pass on to my children is what it means to be an amazing brother to a loving sister. I can only hope my two children will know as much love and have as many memories as I have had with my brother over the years.

I wish nothing but the best for them both. And Ashley, if I didn’t kill Jude sharing a bathroom with him in high school, you should be safe.