Some would say we’re not really brothers because we don’t share the same blood.

Yet, we are the lucky ones.  Chosen to be brought into a family with a Mom and Dad that wanted us.

Does growing up together in the same loving home make you brothers? We couldn’t have been more different boys growing up.  Greg was the tinkerer and hell raiser.  I was the quiet nerd worried about my grades.  My brother was the one who helped our Dad fix bicycles and snowmobiles.  I was the one that played catch in the back yard.  Our time together as a family, though, was awesome.  Whether it was Summer trips to the beach, Easter in Pennsylvania, romping through the woods behind our house, or just hanging by the pool after work, we had a great life growing up.

Does knowing that the other person is there for you make you brothers?  Probably one of the most important days in a man’s life is when he gets married.  I was proud to stand by my brother when he married the love of his life.  In order to stand by me when I married the woman of my dreams, Greg had to do some things outside his comfort zone, like speak in front of a room full of people.  And travel through New York City, TWICE!  But when I needed him most, he was there for me.

Do shared experiences make you brothers?  One day after school in the early spring time, we decided to take our dirt bikes down to the Motocross track.  He was maybe 15 and me 13.  One of the things our Father always insisted was that we never ride our dirt bikes on the road.  On the way back from the motocross track, there is a small stretch of road where we usually got off the bikes and pushed them the 200 yards or so before we got back on.

This particular day, we were running late and decided to putter along the road instead of getting off the bikes and pushing.  Greg was in the lead and I followed behind.  As a good leader, he looked back to check on me and in a flash hit the throttle and was gone.  I looked back and there was a cop behind me.  Assuming my brother knew what he was doing, I gunned it and disappeared behind him.

Once I could cross the highway, I was home free!  As I approached the ditch, I noticed a tire track in the snow remnants and knew Greg had gone through.  Down one side and I got stuck in the snow on the way back up.  Here I was in high gear spraying snow and mud when I felt a hand on my shoulder.  The cop had caught me.

Coming down the dirt road on the other side of the highway was my brother checking up on me.  He almost got to the end when he saw I was with the cop and started to turn around.  Just then, the officer motioned for him to come over and proceed to chew both of us out.

The cop said he was going to call our parents and we would never get a driver’s license.  I don’t know if he ever called, but we never heard anything about it.  Maybe my parents didn’t even know until this day.  I don’t think my brother ever forgave me.

Later in life we would share another experience; fighting Cancer.  Just as I was on the end of my chemotherapy treatment, he was starting his.  We would text back and forth about the hell of chemo and dealing with the side effects.  Sadly, his was worse than mine and he lost that battle.  I never got to say goodbye, but I hope he knew that I thought about him every day.  And still do.

I’ve never really cared what some people say.

Today I will celebrate my brother’s birthday by drinking a beer and thinking about all the good times we had growing up.