Love And Acknowledgement: Scottie Tully

It is going to be really hard for me to write this.

Well, it’s 1:15 in the morning, and you just turned eighteen.

I can hear you snoring in the room across from me, but I sit wide-awake. Your birthday has certainly given me quite a lot to think about. Turning eighteen has a very special significance in everyone’s life. It’s interesting, it’s eventful, it’s exciting, and it’s more than a little intimidating… or so I would assume.

Eighteen years old means becoming a person: someone of importance, and no longer ‘just a kid’. Being eighteen means being able to vote— Obama 2012! — and as you pointed out tonight, it means that you will no longer be able to murder somebody and be charged as a minor.

But to me, your turning eighteen means so much more than that.

In the almost sixteen years that I have experienced so far, a day has never passed when you were not a central part of my life.

I was there the first time dad showed you how to hit a baseball—when you dropped the bat and chose to pursue a butterfly that was flitting across the yard instead. I was there sleeping side by side in the same twin bed with you, struggling to stay up late into the night to talk incessantly about Harry Potter together. I was there, helping you color our basement carpet with chalk, and witnessed Mom’s reaction when she found us kneeling on the floor, our hands stained with the pink and blue evidence of our guilt. I was there the first time you drove a car, when you seemed intent upon stomping upon the accelerator and the brake alternatively, and nearly giving Sheila a heart attack in the process.

From my earliest childhood, you were my closest companion, my partner in crime, my role model, and my best friend. It has never been easy for me to express just how deeply my love and admiration for you has always run.

There were times just a few years ago, when our interests began to differ and we both hit our teenage years with a vengeance, when living in our house together was similar to living in a warzone.  But here we still stand, one of us a legal adult, and I love you every bit as much as I did when we were five and seven years old.

From the very beginning I was your shadow: modeling everything I did after you.  I admired your intelligence, your natural leadership, your athleticism, your maturity, your composure, and your uncensored— yet unmatched—sense of humor. But most of all, I have always admired the relentlessness, consistency, and dedication with which you pursue your passions.

You were cut from your travel baseball team at just ten years old, and even then, I was taken aback by the incredible maturity and perseverance with which you overcame the situation. I saw the hours you spent outside, throwing a ball against the pitch-back until you were athletically unmatched, and then watched as you started on the varsity baseball team your freshman year of high school. I saw you break records and win games, and looked on with a bizarre combination of irritation and pride as the art and writing awards of mine, which were hanging up on the wall, were slowly but steadily overrun by the various newspaper articles and photos featuring your athletic ability and eventual acceptance into Notre Dame.

And I must admit, I still get that painful lurch of anxiety in my stomach when someone mentions you going away to college. It’s hard to imagine life without you, it really is.

But today isn’t a day for uncertainties and goodbyes. Today is a day of celebration and triumph.

So congratulations Scottie, for eighteen years of being one of the most remarkable people I know. You taught me more than I could possibly say about passion, dedication, and standing up for what you believe in.

You are the best big brother I could ever have asked for.

Happy birthday, and I love you so much!