May 1 2025: A little over four years after writing this entry, I was informed by my sister that it was greatly offensive to her, though it was never meant that way. From my heart I saw her as Blair- blonde, more light-hearted than me, and more bubbly than me. I saw myself as Jo because I was so plain, so toned down, and brunette. My sister was also enraged at the photos from our teenage years- I thought they were reminiscent of simpler times (and also nice looking and endearing photos of her). I always thought if she ever found her way here, to this post, that she would smile as memories from those years and times came back and she saw the gorgeous photos of her from younger days. Not so. Out of respect for the aforementioned, I am editing out her face as it was never my intent to offend. Only the photos will be edited- all original content otherwise.
I walked into a place today and whatever that smell was, it took me back in time. One whiff as I walked across the room and suddenly it was about 1989 or 1990 again, and I was in middle school but befriending guys much older than me. I suddenly felt like I should be hanging out in a place called Perry County. That’s another story though.
It’s a story that’s been told many times in many different ways by siblings all over the globe. Growing up with a sister just 20 months older than me, it seemed we should have been built-in best friends. But I was Jo and she was Blair. I was Dorothy and she was Blanche. Sure, we loved each other. And as very young kids I don’t even believe we fought…much. It seemed we lived in different worlds, so what was there to fight about.
As we became preteens and young teens it seemed I wasn’t treated very sisterly anymore. Other than that not much changed.
As I was reading Ladies Home Journal magazines my sister was reading Us Weekly or something similar. I was reading Reader’s Digest magazines and she was reading Soap Opera Digest. My favorite book series was The Babysitter’s Club and hers was Sweet Valley High, a PG-13 romance series geared towards young adults.
By the early 90’s as a new teenager my celebrity crushes were Stone Phillips from Dateline NBC and Anderson Cooper and I’m fairly sure my sister’s were professional wrestlers (I don’t recall the names). Reading what I’m writing here I can only laugh and imagine how bored she must have been by me.
Fast forward to today. I can’t tell you who she is or what she’s doing. We don’t communicate. But what I do know is that no matter how different we may be, we’re both entitled to be who we are. And there is a great deal of freedom and peace in accepting those differences. I can’t pretend to be a Blair when I’m still a Jo and I would never expect her to be a Dorothy if she’s still a Blanche. What I can do though is accept us both for who and where we are. Perhaps our paths will intertwine again some day, or perhaps they won’t.
My hope for her, and you who’s reading this, is that your paths are filled with light and love and only ever happy tears. That you’re being you and loving life. That your path is scenic and rewarding. I hope you’re doing what you’re here to do and staying true to who you are.
And hey, if you’re a Blair but ever need a Jo, well you know where to find me.
