Today my sister, Louise, turns 40. Is it because she has reached this touchstone age to my almost-45 that I finally see her as a legitimate adult in her own right? Last night, while I was contemplating what to write, I realized that sometime in the recent past, I finally started to see Louise as not just a fully-formed adult, but one who has lapped me in so many “adulty” ways. For those of you who know her only as this amazingly kind, accomplished, adulty version of herself, please join my journey. A journey of a girl born in 1980, smack in the middle of a family of five kids.
I was almost 5 the when Louise was born. My only memory of the event was standing on the green, velour armchair at my grandparents’ house, talking on the black, rotary-dial phone that always sat on the buffet. “We’re naming her Louise,” Mom said. My only reference point to that name was George Jefferson screaming “Weezy!” on the show of the same name. It didn’t seem like a name for a baby. We called her Weez, Weezer Deezer, but never Weezy.
We grew up in the middle of nowhere in rural, southern Wisconsin. Our parents gave us a lot of opportunities and raised us to be open-minded and comfortable in the world. They also left us to our own devices a lot of the time. Fortunately for me, Louise always went along with whatever suggestions for fun (read, costume dramas and Esther-Williams themed water ballet in the 4 foot deep pool) I came up with. During our childhood, I definitely saw her as a character actor in the drama of my life.
A moment of relative normalcy with Dad 
Learning the finer points of scoring bowling from Mom. 
Typical Thanksgiving, before I was familiar with the notion of cultural appropriation, tact, or the basic tenets of costume design. Louise is the tiny pilgrim on the left. Costumes-Angie Bier. Bangs-Janice Bier. 
This is Louise and our middle sister, Katie, doing some sort of pajama-related theatrics at our Grandma’s house. 
Dresses-Janice Bier’s closet. Makeup-Angie Bier’s heavy hand.
As we got older and Louise stretched her proverbial wings, I took it upon myself to act as her shepherd into adult life, whether she needed it or not. Because, you know, she was my little sister first and foremost. Mom, I know you will not be pleased to hear this, but I provided Louise with what I believe was her first beer when she was visiting me at college. At the same time, I remained very protective of my pretty, smart younger sibling and recall one particularly awful dressing down about her high school aged behavior as we drove over the 27th street viaduct in Milwaukee. Sorry about that, Louise. But you so full of potential and promise, I didn’t want you to screw up IN ANY WAY. Turns out, I just needed to let you screw up in your own way. She was always inherently the smartest one in the family, but just didn’t need to flaunt it. It is now that I publicly admit that she scored one point higher than I did on the ACT. This admission alone would be an adequate birthday gift, but I shall go on.
Here’s Louise during a typical middle school phase. I’m pretty sure Janice Bier was still in charge of her bangs. 
Louise, my dance and style protege…at least in my mind. God, I wish I still had that hat. 
Louise’s valiantly powered past the awkwardness of adolescence 
She followed my lead on the jean shorts, but fortunately had some independence of thought on hair length. 
Nothing says senior photos like a birch. 
I was simultaneously jealous and proud of how good Louise looked at h.s. dances. Edited out the date, who we referred to as “Shoulder Boy.”
A big turning point in the journey was when Louise up and left the midwest, moving to New York with her future husband, Ho Ying. I don’t think I realized at the time that this was, truly, a permanent move. I would have to create a version of our adult lives in which we weren’t an easy drive away from each other. I couldn’t resent the move though, even for a minute. I’m a Ho Ying fan. Pun fully and always intended.
One role that Louise defined all by herself was that of Cool Aunt. Other than foisting my children on her on every possible occasion, this had nothing whatsoever to do with me. I never have to nudge the girls in any way to spend time with “Aunt Tooise.”
The girls equate all of New York City with Aunt Louise. 
All of the Bier women gathered around the kitchen sink… 
. . . bathing baby Natalie. Look at that sweet smile for Aunt Louise. 
She is still kind of “meh” on her role as aunt to Obi, however. 
Louise is the kind of aunt who likes to spend time . . . 
on the couch. 
They clean up okay.
In the past few years, I find myself calling Louise more and more often asking for advice. Somewhere she snuck up on me and stockpiled all sorts of adult skills. Folks, at the age of 40, I can say with confidence that Louise has fully lapped me. I am the older sister in name only.
Louise is a kick-ass partner, 
daughter, ruptured Achilles tendon survivor, 
sister 
(all five of us Bier kids at Katie’s farewell celebration before joining the Carmelite monastery,) 
Aunt, 
niece, camper, and fanny-pack wearer, 
scholar, and genetic counselor, 
dancer, 
creative artist, 
baker, licker of beaters, 
gamer, 
and bright spirit in the universe! (please also note the old brown van in the background).
Happy 40th birthday! In reality, you lapped me long ago.
PS…at least we didn’t do anything like this to you.
What a loving essay, along with being funny in all the right places and ways
What a fun and entertaining writing. I had a few well needed good giggles. You had wonderful parents – and still do – for sure!
Happy birthday, Weez! We love you. Great writing, Ang! We love you, too. Okay, we love all of you!