HB Joan(ie)

You have always been "the pretty one." I say this with great pride, not the least trace of jealousy. (I think we all learned at an early age, "Jealousy is a terrible thing.") The high cheekbones, the thin nose, the straight teeth. It's cool to have a sister who's so pretty. See?

Besides that, you were Mensa fodder from day one -- brilliant, great grades, a whiz with foreign languages -- and to this day, you are forever surprising me with the wild variety of books you read. Anyone who reads The Double Helix and The Murder of Roger Ackroyd with equal gusto is a Renaissance woman.

I never could manage the Farrah Fawcett hair, but you could. (My '80's hair looks remarkably like my '90's hair and my '70's hair...) Aside from the hair, don't we look like twins? (HA)

You are the one puppies love. And grown dogs. And kittens, probably iguanas and certainly little kids. You may have refused the honorific "Aunt"; instead Vincent dubbed you My Joanie and Olivia carries on the tradition.

And here is The Photograph of Joanie. You know, The One. Arguably one of the greatest photos of any of us.

Happy Birthday, Joan(ie). What can I say? You're My Joan(ie) to me, too.

Love, Gail