I adore my little brother.
Halloween is no big thing here, it exists, but they tend to celebrate it on the wrong day, and people are a bit confused by it. For instance, my friends J. and R. had little kids in masks ring their doorbell last year. ''Did you want something?'' J. asked them. They merely shrugged. She gave them some cornflakes.
So, I have to get a halloween fix vicariously (not that I ever went all out with a crazy costume when I lived in the States, but I did usually go to a party or two).
This is where my little brother comes in. He went to a party last night, dressed as Hedwig. And his girlfriend went as Tommy Gnosis.
You must understand, of course, that my little brother would make a great football player. He's one big barrel-chested muscular guy.
''My friends said I was scaring them,'' he said. ''Maybe it was the bad glitter makeup. And the players from the women's soccer game that I was the ref at earlier in the day kept on coming up to me and wanting to have their pictures taken with me.''
Scary indeed. I can only imagine, what with the blonde wig and a star-spangled outfit with a leather cape reading ''Yankee go home with me.''
He said he was very hungover this morning, but managed to get to his soccer game at nine a.m. and even score a goal before the end of the game.
''I'll tell you more later,'' he said.
The Swedish word for the day is lillebror. It means little brother.
- by Francis S.