Having two brothers and no sisters whilst growing up in Elmhurst, IL during the 1960s had more pluses than minuses: I had my own bedroom. The boys shared one. I had no gripe with the gene pool, free of comparison to a sister, who would have at least a 50% statistical chance of being prettier, smarter and destined for more fame than me.

One minus was competition, in the sense I had no idea how to do it.

This was revealed to me late, in kidhood time, seventh grade, when I tried out for the cheer-leading squad at Immaculate Conception grammar school. I don’t vividly remember trying out but precisely recall minutes during the week prior. I was terrified. Being judged.

My brothers were encouraging, which I ignored. Mom and Dad suggested I enjoy the challenge, which I ignored. Girlfriends practicing with me affirmed I had a good chance of succeeding, which I ignored.

If only I had a sister to laugh at me for being such a scared sissy.

I would have shown her.