Don't You Forget About Me

 The In-Between Book Launch Party, 8/1/13

Dear Jeffery,

So, this is awkward. You're getting kind-of famous. I'm seeing your name on websites I frequent. I mention to my doctor that my brother is a writer and she drops her stethoscope when I tell her that yes, "The Jeff Goins" is my brother. Or when my teacher virtually begs me to get you to even consider Skyping into one of her classes. You're speaking at conferences I'm dying to attend.

Remember when you were sixteen and I was six and you smacked my face against the bed frame and said, "Love hurts"? As blood trickled down my nose, I was sure that you were the worst older brother in the entire world. I guess not much has changed in fourteen years.

Kidding—I just don't want your head to inflate.

For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to be just like you. Except a prettier, blonde, female version. I cut my hair when I was three so I could be just like my Deeder. When it was my time for me to go to sleep away camp, I insisted on an acting seminar because I had just seen you perform on stage (Remember that awkward play where you were a gym coach? Also, the one where you were an Easter bunny) For my sixteenth birthday, I insisted on going with the mission organization that you worked for to have my own chance to spread the gospel and see the world.

I remember lying on your couch at 2AM bawling my eyes out this summer. You asked me to pre-read your new book,The In-Between because you wanted my input on remarkable quotes.You had written in the acknowledgments to my younger siblings, "I hope I make you guys proud."

Wut.

All I have ever wanted in my entire life is to make you proud of me. Most people don't have a sibling ten years older than them. They don't know what it's like to have someone who is more than their confidant or partner in crime, but rather their mentor. A sibling who has gone above and beyond whether academically-- graduating magna cum laude with a double major, or by travelling the world and accomplishing his dreams as a writer.

I read the comments on your blog from people like Mica who say, "Jeff, your words have been the catalyst for me to finally go after this dream. Thank you for publishing your words! They have brought me more than insight and inspiration; they've ignited purpose. I'm forever grateful." People who see you as a push, a light where they knew none, a reason to just keep going. I just want to be like, um no, he's mine. That's MY big brother.

I'm scared that somewhere along the way you'll forget about me. Among the travelling and the fame and the adventures, that there won't be any room for your baby sister (sorry Rhea, I'm younger). I fear that one day I won't measure up to the high standards you've set for yourself and for me as well, that I will mess up and be left behind. I worry that you will push me aside while I'm in Europe because you will become too busy with your own life. I fear that you will look at my life and not be proud of who I am or what I'm doing. 

So what do you mean that you hope you make me proud?

You are my mentor, my inspiration. You were my rock star when you played with your band Decaf at Lion's Club Park. You are my midnight phone call when I want to drop out of school. You are the person who introduced me to Christ and ramen noodles. You push me when I'm being an escapist and make me re-evaluate my priorities when I'm running myself dry. You helped me perfect my Spanish accent when I told you I wanted to go to Costa Rica. You made me the coolest girl in school when your band performed at my middle school in seventh grade. You remind me that no one cares what you used to be about to do, only what you are currently doing. You taught me that church wasn't a building with a steeple. You give me hope that someone out there will wait for me, like you waited for Ashley. You seem to be an expert on everything I love, with the exception of sorority life (but that's what I have a sister). I'll never forget all of our trips to Dairy Joy where you opted for a dipped cone and didn't understand why I insisted on always having a twist. Or the time you gave me your pog collection. Or when you told me that you wished you could have written half as well as I do when you were in college. 

Sometime in the '90s, Waterman, IL

And you know what? If I have to share you with the world, then so be it. If thousands look up to, nothing could make me more proud. If your only supporters are those who share your last name, I would be happy because I knew you were still making sure that your priorities were being a great husband to Ashley and a great father to Aiden. Because the biggest lesson that you've taught me? Success is nothing if it's from this world, if it's created by climbing a corporate ladder, or accumulating things.

So here's to you, J. Here's to the family that stays together through the crazy, but is constantly seeking to better ourselves and each other. Here's to all the times that you have and will tell me, "you're going to be okay." Here's to being an amazing brother to me, and an amazing mentor to thousands. I can't wait to see the man you continue to become. 

I hope that I can be for Patrick what you have been for me.

Love Always,

Poodgie