Many happy returns to my big brother Marley (quirkily named so after the iconic and nattily hirsute reggae legend Bob).
As a child, I hero-worshipped him as a grandiose, Titan deity of ancient strength and infinite wisdom. Inclined to Puckish mischief, he would often appear grass-stained and mud-splotched (the proud ichor of boyhood).
At the rickety old age of twenty four today, his most bold and heroic feats are of course behind him. But he’s still worthy of a faint tribute from a former slave.