By There’s a 14 year age difference between my self and my sister, Casey. I remember the day she was born like it was yesterday. It was the morning of November 4, 1991–a Monday, I believe. Kind of odd to remember the day your sister was born, when I can’t even remember the day I was born, but there’s a reason why I remember that day so well. It was “tryouts” day for the marching units at Xavier Prep High School, and I missed it because I was at the hospital, waiting for my sister to be born.
She’s heard this story a thousand times (because I never let her forget what she did), so I’d be surprised if she even read this post. It’s bad for her because I will probably tell this story for the rest of my life to whoever is willing to listen, so sorry, not sorry.
One of the most highly anticipated moments of my high school career was joining a marching unit, because marching during parade season was EVERYTHING. “New Orleanians” look forward to certain times of the year the way most people look forward to their birthdays; Festival Season, Crawfish Season, Football Season (WHO DAT!?!!?!) and Carnival Season. As far as I was concerned, joining the marching unit made the whole “high school” thing worth while. At Prep, if you were a member of the marching units for the entire four years of high school, you earned a letterman jacket (just like the athletes) your senior year. Considering I’ve never been the athletic type, being in the marching units was as close as I would ever get to a jacket.
At Prep, we had an impressively large marching unit, compared to how small the school was. We had the band, of course, the letter carriers, majorettes, flag carriers, cheerleaders, dance team, and the flag twirlers, which is the group I picked. I liked the idea of twirling not one, but two flags. Seemed like only people with special skill could do that and march on beat while waiving at family and friends as you pass through the parade route, but I digress. Tryouts were an entire week. Every day after school for a week, we learned the routine we were to perform at tryouts. The rule was if you missed one day of tryouts, you were not allowed to try out and as bad as I wanted to be on the marching units, I made sure I didn’t miss a day of practice. Getting in was a sure thing…I thought. After attending practice the entire week and having my routine tight and right, I was ready for the BIG day. Well, as luck would have it, the BIG day came, but rather than staying after school for tryouts, I had spent the day in Lakeside Hospital, waiting for Casey to be born. That’s right…no flag twirlers, no tryouts, no jacket.
I “remind” Casey about this story every year around her birthday, but to be honest, I would have missed a thousand tryouts to have her in my life. She is beautiful, smart, talented and funny. Lord knows, that child crazy just like her Daddy, but she’s perfect, she’s my sister, and I love her. Even though we did not grow up together in a traditional sense because I was fourteen years old when she was born, but I was so proud to be her “Big” sister. Being the older sibling afforded me the opportunity to experience having a sister in a different way. Instead of getting over on our parents together, or going to school together, I enjoyed combing her hair, taking her and Mike to school, going on field trips and putting her in my sorority’s (OO-OOP) fashion show while at Dillard. We experienced so much together and I cherish every moment.
Now that we’re both adults, our bond is even stronger and our relationship, even closer. We spend time together as often as we can, and I love the person she is and the woman she has become. Sometimes I wish she had a little more confidence in her talents because she’s an amazing artist, but it’s only a matter of time where she will realize how awesome she is, and I’ll be in her corner every step of the way.
I may not have that letterman jacket (thanks a lot, Casey), but I do have the best sister a girl could ever ask for. Winning.
Black
7thwardblack 