A Tribute to My Sister Sandy Hirsh on Her 60th Birthday (Part 1 of 2)

[We recently celebrated my sister Sandy Hirsh’s 60th birthday. I read this toast at her party. I will soon post a part 2 that I’m sharing only online.]

Many of you probably assume it’s time for the little brother to roast his big sister. After all, I’m a GenXer and I’ve been honing my snarking skills for decades, since I was in the womb. And if this were Sandy’s 30th or 40th birthday, I probably would let it fly. But as much fun as it would be to take the express train to Snarktown, this is a 60th birthday and, as a sign of my newfound maturity, I’ve decided to respect my elders and actually try to be nice. Sandy, my birthday gift to you is that I’m keeping the embarrassing revelations about your youth secret until your next milestone birthday. You’re welcome.

* * *

Sandy and I are 3 years apart. We are both early-stage GenXers. Our parents were wartime babies, so they are technically late-stage Silent Generation instead of Boomers. But like many boomers, they married young, the relationship didn’t work out, they divorced, and they both went on to achieve personal and professional success separately.

Our parents’ split defined our childhood. We grew up in a single-parent household with a full-time working mom. It was just the three of us, but in fact for many hours of the day it was just the two of us. Like many GenXers, we were latchkey children. At a young age, we arrived home to an empty home with no adult figure awaiting us. In practice, for much of my childhood, Sandy was the closest thing I had to a parent for several hours a day.

Sandy and I have very different personalities. To oversummarize, I was a socially awkward and nerdy introvert, and Sandy was the socially gregarious extrovert. Sandy’s nickname was “Sandy Sunshine,” though I have no idea where that came from.

Some of you may not appreciate how significant Sandy’s interpersonal skills were to her childhood. Our mom shrewdly recognized that California real estate was a great investment, and she moved constantly in an effort to “trade up” and parlay her accumulated equity. This was a smart financial decision, but it came at a significant personal cost.

After our parents separated, we moved to the Los Angeles basin, where we lived for 5 years. We then moved to Davis, California, where we lived for another 5 years. We then moved to Santa Barbara, where we lived for another 4 years until I graduated high school. Across all of those relocations, we lived in 7 different houses.

The constant moving fragmented Sandy’s K-12 education. Over 13 years, she attended 9 different schools.

The relocation disruptions meant that Sandy was constantly saying goodbye to her current friends and having to make all-new ones. I’ve often wondered if Sandy’s social gregariousness was forged by these trials, or if it was innate and the secret to her ability to survive the dislocations.

In contrast to Sandy’s disjointed education record, mom’s moves synched up with my normal school transitions, so I only attended 4 schools total (K-3, 4-6, 7-8, 9-12). Even that degree of disruption was a lot for a socially awkward person like myself. I took a long time to build friendships and never built a lot, and each relocation broke the social progress I made.

I always envied Sandy’s social skills. I aspired to emulate her gregariousness because I knew that I would get more out of life if I could. Much of my life through my mid-twenties was defined by my efforts to be “more like Sandy Sunshine.”

Because of my difficulties making other friends, Sandy was always my best friend growing up. She was the one constant relationship in my life, the one person close to my age that I could count on, the social foundation I didn’t have to rebuild with each move.

When I got married, there was no doubt who should be my “best man.” Despite defying the gender expectations for the role, I knew who belonged at my side on that most important day. After all, she had stood by my side every other day.

[Stay tuned for Part 2]

BONUS 1: I prepared a Spotify playlist for Sandy’s birthday. It’s meant more as a soundtrack of her life than as a list of her “favorite” songs.

BONUS 2: My daughter made this painting of pomegranates as a birthday present for my sister.