Today is my baby sister Vicki’s birthday, and frankly, she has me to thank that she is alive today to celebrate it.
Yep, it is no secret in our family that Vicki is a saint.  In fact, through some peoples’ eyes, saint ain’t even close.  She literally makes a living doing good things for others as a life coach, a purveyor of medicinal herbs and potions, an author, and as caretaker of our mother who suffers from Alzheimers. She pretty much saves peoples’ lives every day, but what some people may not know, is that I saved her life, not once, but twice.
I wasn’t happy when she came into my life, in fact, I considered her an interloper.  With two older sisters who were already graduated and out of the house before I was even born, I’d savored my 5-year reign as only-child, singular object of my parents’ affection, princess of sweetness and light.

But eventually she grew on me. People tried to treat us equally, but somehow I knew they liked her best.  Even though at every turn her cuteness outshone me, I dutifully shouldered the heavy responsibility of being second fiddle the older sister.

The first time I saved her life she was about 4. She couldn’t keep anything in her stomach and was about to be hospitalized. As the bitter older sister, I admit, as I sat on the edge of her bed while my mother tended her, I was sizing up the wall space in her room, imagining what my furniture would look like in there after she died. (Shut up, I was 9.) Suddenly, I started singing a silly song but mixed up the words and she started to smile, then giggle, and the more rediculous the song got, the more she laughed.  Finally, as I cavorted around the room, she sat up and started eating her Saltines – it was a miracle.

My next heroic act was a couple of years later.  Our parents had left the house with the admonishment that we could go outside as soon as we finished our chores, but not before.  Vicki’s chore was to clean the bathroom, and mine, being the Cinderella of the house was of course to clean the fireplace.  Having always been a bit of a chemist, Vicki closed the bathroom door, put the stopper in the sink, and singing all the while, set about mixing her own cleaning potion which consisted of Clorox, amonia, Ajax, and toothpaste….yeah, pretty much producing toxic fumes immediately. I think she started choking, which is what made me open the bathroom door to check on her.  I dragged her outside, and then bravely went back in to drain the sink and open all the windows in the house.

We’ve had our moments, as all siblings do, but all in all, I’m mostly glad I was there to snatch her from the jaws of death.

So happy birthday Vick, and you’re welcome!


  • Posted May 3, 2011 4:13 pm 0Likes
    by St. Elizabeth of Cayce

    Wowzers — good thing you were actually doing your chore and able to hear her, rather than sulking off somewhere.Just so's you know, your's (yours?) was always the first name in the Linda-Vickie impossible standard up to which we could not live.

  • Posted May 3, 2011 10:34 pm 0Likes
    by Victoria

    Thank you seems so insignificant for such herculean heroics, but the love of a sister knows no bounds, as you have demonstrated. But I thank you, not only for rescuing me, but for being the one I looked up to, wanted to be like(after all, who wouldn't want to be a hero?), and the one whose attention I craved most. So with the words of that crazy song "I sat on the corner and smoked my guitar…" ringing in my ears, I say thank you to my hero, my siter, my "aha", I love you.

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