Lucas Alan Johnson – Chance taker, adventure seeker and fiercely loyal friend.

I remember the day you were born. Dad came to the neighbor’s house where I was being kept while you were coming into the world and said, “Well, you’re a big sister. You have a baby brother and his name is Lucas Alan.” I couldn’t possibly know at that moment all that statement held for me. Mainly because I was six and most of my thoughts were centered around myself. I don’t have many vivid memories of my sixth year, but I do recall on the day you were born the kid whose mom was watching me broke my red roller skate necklace. It was devastating and at the time was about as big a deal as your arrival was. In fact I blame(d) you a little for the mishap. In my defense, the necklace was pretty awesome!

Pulling up memories is a strange task. The big things show up with ease, of course. You coming home from the hospital, the day we got a Nintendo, your homecomings and proms, high school graduation, our summer road trips, you being in my wedding, college graduation, your bad car accident, your first real job, you moving to Texas. Along with countless random holiday memories. Like when you were maybe three and upon opening a Christmas gift from Aunt Weezie discovered a flannel shirt. You expressed your disgust by chucking the shirt over your shoulder and declaring, “Zero!”. That perhaps is the hundredth telling of that story but it never loses its hilarity to those who love you.

It’s also a bunch of little bits and fragments. Your sticky-uppy dandelion hair that no amount of LA Looks gel could tame. Your love of He-Man and Legos and experimenting with explosives. Your favorite drink receptacle, “yellow bumpy glass” which most often held milk frequently with cinnamon discs at the bottom. The affliction we both share; a ridiculous sensitivity to food eating sounds most notably expressed when you stood up from watching cartoons before school and grabbed my cereal bowl off of the TV tray in front of me and dumped an entire bowl of corn flakes on my head. At that time in my life fixing my hair required an hour at minimum and enough hair spray that the I’m surprised the EPA never showed up at our door. I was late to school and mad at you for, well, a long time.

I remember the names of your dear friends, Jenny, Elmo, Blue Bird, Meanie and Ikie. Also your real friends, Anthony, John, Ben, Blayze, Joel, Matt and Jay. I remember mom and dad reading to you, “I’d like a pound of ground round for my round brown hound please.” still sticks in my head as a result of your countless requests for the book that sentence lived in. There were summers in the sprinkler and sandbox and trips out to Turtle River. Winters building snow forts, sledding and then years of cheering for you from the stands as you played hockey.

As expected of little brothers, you were an annoying little pest who made it difficult to have a boy over or a phone call in peace. But you have turned into a guy who is cool, level-headed, and wise beyond his years, full of life and adventure and whom I adore. There are many things I’m grateful for in my life, but you are one of my greatest joys.

My wish for you in your next decade is that you’ll continue to pave your own way so I can be inspired by your bravery. That you’ll keep working hard and kicking ass in all you do so I can continue to be inspired by your drive and intelligence. That you’ll stay humble and grateful and keep being kind to those who’ve fallen on hard times. Because in Luke’s world, homeless guys get a slice of hot pizza, everyone gets treated with dignity and big tips and I get to be the big sister of the coolest guy there ever was.

As you leave your 20’s behind I hope you know how proud I am to call you my brother and my friend. Now if you could run out and find me a roller skate necklace, we’ll call it even. Love you, lutefisk.