Beaks

Tomorrow (December 16) is my brother Jim's 45th birthday and it occurred to me that I had this photograph handy.

I recall this day quite well. The photographer came to our house and draped his backdrop over our fireplace. (Actually, now that I think about it a bit, I think it was one of my dad's Navy blankets.) Jim (the youngest) cried virtually the entire time. If memory serves, this is possibly the only one of the proofs that I saw in which he either wasn't crying or with his hand shoved in his mouth!

Bob (the oldest) had a favorite nickname for us –“ "Beak". He didn't discriminate –€“ he called us all "Beak". We had no idea what it meant but since it was what he called us, we assumed it must be bad.

So... we started calling each other "Beak" if ever we wanted to start trouble. Many a fight pursued over a name we knew nothing about. Eventually, the stigma associated with the name wore off and we now greet each other with "Hey, Beak".

At some point, I called Jim "Beak" in front of some of his friends in high school, and he has been known as "Beak" by all his friends since.

Bob has yet to reveal what it means.