Steve-O turns 3-0

[Ed. note: this post is super-family-focused. You know by now that I do these from time-to-time.]

Happy birthday my brother. You’re more three decades old. Some say turning thirty years old marks the end of youthful indiscretions that you can laugh away. Personally, I don’t buy that shit. Reject the propaganda that leaving your twenties is symbolic of losing your youth. Like most things in life, it’s all about attitude. 

Then again, thirty is as good as any age to go into overdrive and make your dreams come true. It also doesn’t have to mean you’re suddenly more mature, more self-disciplined, wiser, or more grown-up. Just roll with it, man. There’s still plenty more interesting stuff coming up, at warp speed...

That’s about all the half-baked advice that I am capable of.

My sincere wish is that you had an amazing birthday.

Anyway. 

I’ve always been proud to call you my brother.

You were a cute toddler. I was lucky to have glimpsed some of that as a quasi-adult.

I'm not sure what you were like as a teenager. This photo is hard to read. Probably, like most people, you were preoccupied with figuring yourself out.

Your twenties…establishing the base. Launchpad of adult life. Mom was always leading the cheers and extolling your many virtues. 

You’ve started a new decade in your life as we all enter the 2020s. Neat. Please thrive.

And we all love ya.

Circa 2004