From Jeremy Everts

Fred,

Little brother, first let me wish you a very happy 40th birthday. Remember as you embark on what is sure to be the apex of your glamorous life, take stock in all that you've accomplished thus far. For the years to follow will be the slowest moving, least exciting and most monotonous, void of achievements which will garner much accolade. Your children will continue to grow and with their lives replace all recollections of fame and glory to which you had previously laid claim. You will henceforth be known more for the little things you've forgotten than the vast wealth of knowledge you spent your lifetime collecting. Your gait will slow, speech elongate, and lastly hair will protrude from areas you did not realize were capable of such feats. Anyway, Happy Birthday and I hope you enjoy your special day.

You, Fred were the brother I had prayed for my entire childhood, the yin to my yang, commrades in arms and life. You completed me (chokes up). Don't get me wrong, sisters were amazing and I wouldn't trade them for anything, but YOU, sir... were the brother I craved. You lived up to and surpassed my expectations as we grew. What I couldn't have imagined at that time was how much you would teach me about everything. I was expecting a mini me that I could mold and torment into what I thought you should be. While their was some molding and definitely tormenting, what I received was an education on how to be a decent person, kind and caring, intelligent, funny, and most importantly a good man.

I could use this time to reminisce over all the bad words Paul and I taught you, how we locked you in Mom's sewing room or the top shelf of my closet, teaching you to play Mario Bros. or taking you to Oak Park Mall, just to attract girls (which isn't true. You were genuinely fun to be around, and still are). I could remind you of playing gorilla with Jourdain as a baby, when we came to visit; great memories each and every one, but instead I want to use this time to tell you about a more important memory to me. The family was at the beach for a holiday gathering (Labor Day or Memorial Day, I can't recall) and we  were getting ready to leave. Everyone had been running around, having fun and we even had a small fire pit set up in the sand, which had just been extinguished. The white sand of the beach matched the white hot coals perfectly, so well in fact that I chased you into the fire pit by accident. Life immediately went into slow-motion mode for me, seeing you standing in the burning ash. I grabbed you in my arms and held you as Mom and Dad cared for your feet, burned and blackened to the point that we feared you needed medical treatment. We rushed you to the emergency room and I held you the entire way. I had never felt anguish or fear like I did then, worried about the scars you would carry, feeling that I had let you down in the worst way humanly possible. And while I was holding you, feeling sorry for myself you looked at me through your tears with a look that I can only describe as unconditional love. At that moment I realized our special bond as siblings, looking out for and supporting one another. I also felt how much love, resilience and character you possess.

I wish that I could have been closer to you these past years, see you grow into the man you are today, be there with you as you got married and created a beautiful family with Kirsten. I wish that I could be there with you to celebrate your birthday. Please know that even though miles have stood between us my adoration for you has never been stronger. Even at forty, you're still the best brother I could have prayed for.

Love,

Jeremy