What was it about Charlie?

He was my big brother; just 2 years and one month my senior.

He has always been in my life; he has been there since I was born 66 year ago.  I have never been without him.

He shared so much with me.  We both had brown hair and brown eyes and we both looked more like Mommy.  He was my sidekick, my pal, my buddy.  When we were very little we shared a bedroom; our two beds with old-fashioned metal headboards were lined up against the walls on opposite sides of the room.    We got in trouble together.  I was told that I was the one that instigated the trouble and simply dragged Charlie along with me.   We shoved the cereal into the milk bottle and made a marvelous mess of the kitchen.   And, another day we got up on the bed, leaned out the second floor bedroom window and emptied the feathers out of a pillow onto the driveway two stories below.   Our mother almost died of fright as she quietly tipped toed up to us and grabbed us from behind before we fell out the window.  

He was so generous to me.  When I was a teenager I wanted a big, round, hard-plastic hairdryer.  It was the latest and greatest fad for a teenage girl.  Charlie started to earn money before I did and he went out and found exactly what I wanted and bought it for me.  He had a habit of trying to find out exactly what you liked and would go to any extreme to try and find it for you.  And when he found it, he would buy it for you.   Then, when he offered the gift to you, he would stand back quietly and watch intently as your face lit up in pure unadulterated excitement; the spontaneous reaction one expresses when a gift received is the one most desired.   He knew he hit the nail on the head and your pure joy made him happy.