In a big, Chicago-area high school, I was best known as the little brother of Kelly Kuhl.
That suited me just fine. It opened up doors for me and allowed me to ask pretty girls for dates. It gave me recognition before I earned it.
Kelly is two years older than me. She has always been cool. She was a great dancer. Popular boys lined up at the front door of our apartment hoping for a date. My parents named her Marlene Jane. It didn’t suit her. She named herself Kelly and it stuck with her through a remarkable career in dance and theater management.
Kelly is one of my best friends today. She has a certain spirit, courage and beauty that has lasted through the years. Whenever I need a little boost, all I need to do is give Kelly a call. It’s always been that way.
I remember back in the day when she would fix the two of us a bowl of Campbell’s tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich for lunch. They may still be the best meals I’ve ever enjoyed.
As I age, it’s important for me to remember how lucky I’ve been. I had a great mom and dad. I’ve been blessed with loyal friends who often got me out of trouble.
And I have Kelly Kuhl as a big sister.