Today would have been my brother’s – um, let me count – 55th birthday, had he lived. The middle boy of Chet and Rosie Cunningham’s three children, Scott was an amazing brother.
Oh, who am I kidding! He was four years older than me, and as such terrorized me regularly – once I was old enough to bug him incessantly, that is! We bickered over stupid stuff like siblings often do. Yet he also was patient when he showed me how to drip candles into water to make medallions, and answered my seemingly unending questions about his tarot cards.
But he was truly an amazing adult.
We shared an apartment for a few months – he was 22, I was 18 – but I was rarely there. Within six or seven months I was gone, off to dance for the Arizona Ballet Theatre.
I don’t have a lot more to say about Scott, except that I miss him. I miss his biting wit, his terrible puns, and his out-of-the-blue phone calls. I’d love his take on the political situation in the world today. And I miss his presence.
So that’s why, today, I’m calling it out. Happy Birthday, Scott Cunningham. Love you. Miss you.
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His books continue to sell, 18 years after his death. You can find them at Llewellyn Worldwide’s site.