Well, since my mother has told me that she wants to see some positivity from this blog (have my posts really been that negative?), I'm going to talk about my awesome big brother today. Don't let the "awesome" fool you; we are real normal siblings who have DEFINITELY gone through love and hate phases, but overall, I am willing to acknowledge his awesomeness. And he really is an impressive person, there is no denying that. He is almost annoyingly accomplished (and by "almost" I mean, he IS annoyingly accomplished but because he's my brother and I get bragging rights, it is somewhat tolerable). He has a wonderful sense of humor, though he has a tendency to be serious most of the time. He is brilliant, like maybe kind of genius-y actually. And he is a very good man. I am proud of him. All that good stuff said, I'm going to start from the beginning. This will be long.
Andrew was about two years old when I made my entrance into the world. From all accounts, he seemed to love me, and I him. Though I have heard stories that might suggest otherwise. For instance, Mom still talks about the day she left us in the car for a few minutes (I was strapped in a car seat and he was not) and came out to find me screaming with little bite marks all over my legs. She promptly hauled Andrew out of the car and bit him on the leg, to show him what that felt like. (While you would have been jailed for such a thing nowadays Mom, here's a belated THANKS!). I'm pretty sure he never bit anyone ever again. But most of the time, we got along. I apparently used to refer to him as "Nandoo." Stories have it that I would call out "Nandoo, Nandoo!" and like the good big brother he was, he would come to my rescue and use all his little boy strength to pull me out of my playpen.
All my actual memories start at about age 4, when my little sister came home from the hospital. I then became the middle child, experienced the glory of middle child syndrome, and made up my mind to greatly dislike the both of them for about the next 12 years. I'm kidding, kind of. There were plenty of happy times, and of course I LOVED them, but I often felt like the odd man out.
I didn't really appreciate Andrew until he left for college. But we became pretty good friends after that. Anyway, as young boy and teenager Boy scouting was Andrew's LIFE. He could build a fire really well without even using matches and knew how to use a compass like a pro (except for that time he was orienteering and got stuck in a muddy swamp up to his waist - but to his credit, I'm pretty sure he was headed in the right direction at the time). Anyway, he is an Eagle Scout, and to this day, if I had to survive in the wild, I would pick Andrew to have with me. Although I should probably say I'd pick Jamie, since I kind of promised before God that I would. Jamie could definitely keep us alive in that situation, but I'm pretty sure Andrew could do it with more style. (Honey, if we were behind enemy lines however, TOTALLY picking you!) Anyway, Andrew is a very physical, outdoorsy kind of guy; a rock climbing, geocaching, sky diving kind of guy. At least when he's relaxed and having fun. This is clearly demonstrated by this picture of him on a hiking adventure during college (he's the cool guy on the right)
Andrew also has an EXTREMELY serious side. He has an ANNOYING habit of being informed about EVERYTHING. Seriously, don't try and debate with him. You will lose. I know this from 28 years of experience, though I do not admit to having EVER lost. Our "debates" usually end in a Mom-brokered cease-fire. But I digress. Andrew graduated from Notre Dame with a BS in Engineering. He then went directly into a doctoral program in Mechanical Engineering at Notre Dame. This was an arduous, nearly decade long struggle for him (exacerbated by a miserly adviser, and by Andrew's own perfectionist, type-A tendencies). He graduated with his PhD last May, finally having completed his 600-page (yeah, you read that right. SIX HUNDRED PAGES) dissertation: "Shock-fitted numerical solutions of one- and two-dimensional detonation." HUH? Don't even try to read it people, unless you are also a rocket scientist nerd. Essentially, he spent 10 years studying the dynamics of the first 3 nanoseconds of explosions. Or something like that. Anyway, so on his journey to becoming a published rocket scientist, Andrew discovered that his true calling was, in fact, to be a priest. I forgot to mention that Andrew is Catholic. VERY Catholic. My sister and I are not. We really just consider ourselves Christians, with no official denomination. This was a pretty big rift between the siblings for a while. But now, we've come to an understanding and found some "I love Jesus, you love Jesus" common ground. So it's all good. And we are so proud and supportive of his desire to serve God and His people for the rest of his life. He is currently in Rome, Italy at the Pontifical North American College studying to be a priest. We video chat by web cam every so often, and I cannot even express to you the weirdness that very first time I saw Andrew in the black priest garb with the white collar. Just weird. But it suites him. Although, I have to say, Andrew will be one of the handsomest priests ever. That alone may bring some young ladies into the fold (JUST KIDDING ANDREW!) But in all honesty, a few cool young priests will no doubt help the Church with its image. Who knows, Andrew could be the pope someday! My brother, the pope. Hm.
These are all the seminarians in Andrew's class. Andrew is behind and just to the left of the priest with the red seams. I know the red must indicate something important, sorry bro. No disrespect intended.
This is Andrew becoming a Lector (someone who reads Scripture during Mass).
Anyway, so Andrew is away in Italy and will remain there for 2 years. He's not allowed to come home. EXCEPT for a wedding! Way to go little sister! You're bringing our brother home! And just in time to meet his very first niece or nephew. How incredibly perfect. Sarah is getting married in August, which is approximately 1 month after our baby will be born (and I subsequently will be squeezing my post-partum self into a bridesmaid dress - don't count on pictures). Anyway, Andrew is excited. He loves kids. We always thought he'd have a bunch, and it turns out he does. God-children that is. The danger of being a good Catholic man is that every couple you know asks you to be Godfather to their children. He has seven. SEVEN. Hey Andrew! Just don't forget about MY kid! I'd like to say that blood is thicker than baptismal water, but I know it isn't true. It just sounds snappy. But seriously, Uncle is a pretty important title too :-)
So, that's my brother Andrew. He's just a great guy. He has a big heart, a sensitive spirit, and a strong conviction for what is right and good. He's been there for all the important moments in my life and will be for those to come. Not everyone is lucky enough to have siblings, and far fewer are blessed enough to consider them friends. So here's to you Doctor, Father, and most importantly, Brother. I love you Andrew!
