Torske

Once a year, the men of my church choir gather at a house of one of our members, and we participate in a Norwegian tradition known as torske.  I'm not Norwegian (half of us aren't), so my understanding of torske is probably a caricature of the real thing... it is basically the blandest, whitest meal I've ever seen (cod and boiled potatoes) drowned in drawn butter with just a shot of aquavit to wash it down.  Prior to the meal, we sing the Norwegian national anthem, "Ja Vie Elsker."  Pardon the spelling if that is incorrect.  After the meal, we each answer the question posed to the table. 

A few years back, we were asked to talk about our fathers.  Two years ago, it was our mothers.  Last year it was our teachers.  This year, we were asked to talk about our siblings.  What a joy it was to share with a group of middle-aged to elderly men my thoughts about my two younger sisters.  I have been blessed in my life with independent, intelligent, and individualistic sisters.  Both sisters, unique in their own rights, have surprised me with their capacity to succeed. 

The middle one is 120 pounds soaking wet, but studies jujitsu (she will kick your ass), and she demonstrates a willingness to care for and help people every day.  She is an amazing step-mom, and one heck of a driver. 

The youngest has always reached aspirations that seem impossible to a normal person.  This world has always been too small for her.  She is a jet-setter.  She is a financial whiz, and she can hold an intelligent conversation with just about anybody on any given subject.

Both are courageous.  Both are beautiful.  Both are strong.  Both aren't afraid to be honest or vulnerable.  Both are stubborn.  Both have a quick whit.  Both are fabulous siblings.

I don't tell them this enough, but I'm proud to be their brother.  I love them.

Bring on the torske!