To My Brother, Greg

26 years ago today, my brother Greg came into the world, and thankfully my dear mother did not take my advice that we throw him in the dumpster outside.

It has truly been a blessing to have such a wonderful soul as a brother, family member, friend, and sharer of ideas. We have traveled through life together for as long as I can remember, and having him with me (either geographically or in spirit), out of all the people in the world, in some mysterious way attests to the justice and order of the universe. He is an artist with vision, one who can send you mind to vast places as he harvests the deepest power of song. He is a kind, loyal soul with a humble demeanor and a love for wisdom and real knowledge. And the dude LOVES music. He loves talking about music, listening to music, making music, thinking about music, and just generally living music. He certainly has not squandered his gift for music.

He is, however, cursed with sweaty hands. Beware of any guitar, violin, drum stick, Nintendo controller, or spatula that has been in his hands during a moment of even the slightest intensity. It will be drenched with sweat. In the words of his college roommates, "it got slimed," and that is ok by me. I find this to be endearing, as if it's simply evidence that he is so alive, and still so excited about being exactly where he is, doing precisely what he is doing.

GD, thanks for being who you are. You have brought so much joy to my life. I wish it didn't have to be your birthday for me to remember to tell you this, but what better day than today, the day that is also the name of the street we lived on in Brazil...

Love, Mike