Peggy Ann Moore

When I grow up, I want to be the person my sister thinks I am.

My sister, Pam, is a writer. She’s a much better writer than me.

As all of you can attest from the last three months, my writing is a form of logorrhea in word format. My sister wrote a book, and has ideas for others.

My sister and I vowed to do whatever we could to make the internet more elegant. Even if there was no one else to see it but the two of us. For instance, we continue to follow grammar rules when we text or email. We do our best to transfer the warm fuzziness of actual letters to our email missives. We tend to use polysyllabic words without being embarrassed. We eschew (see?) the use of shortcuts that, in our minds, debase the English language.

Like, “Do U C me? R U OK? Luv U!”

My sister introduced me to worldly authors and authors who spoke to a certain style or way of life and guilty-pleasure authors like mystery writers. She’s a super fan of a well-written mystery.

While we are on the subject of words, my sister works the daily crossword. It is as ritualized as her morning espresso. When I visit, she allows me to look over her shoulder at the crossword and make uneducated wild guesses and she’ll go “Hmmmmmmm, that could be right” as if she is seriously considering my amateur crossword opinion and then she’ll come up with the answer on her own because she has been doing crosswords for ages and her crossword ‘muscles’ are much better than mine. Or, she’ll run with my lame suggestion out of the kindness of her heart but, since she wisely only does crosswords in pencil, she leaves herself an easy way out. The weekend crosswords are the most difficult but she tackles them with the same diligence, determination and aplomb she used to use regularly on legal documents.

Because you see, my sister went back to school to get her law degree at 40 or 40 something. Only badasses do that sort of thing. Most of us lack the imagination or the gumption to do an about-face around the time you become eligible to run for president. I mean who wants to go mix it up with a bunch of 20 somethings on a college campus when you’ve hit 40?

One of those law school years was spent in England. My sister does things right so it is only fitting that she would venture to the country where our laws were born. As a historian, she wouldn’t have felt her law education complete without a gander at the Old World documents.

I thought about going to cooking school at one point in time but, because I lack the imagination or gumption I mentioned earlier, I chose instead to loiter for weeks on end at my sister’s in order to absorb her cooking knowledge by osmosis. She is a wizardess in the kitchen. Every meal I have had at my sister’s could have been my last meal and I would have died a happy man.

She is that good.

She combines spices and condiments and meats and complimentary vegetables in such a way that you can easily envision yourself in Tuscany or Barcelona or Oaxaca. And it is all in her head. She flits about her kitchen with the deftness of a water sprite and conjures magic out of her wok or cast iron skillet or casserole dish. And then she acts as if it were no more difficult than licking an envelope.

It was origami to me and, as it turns out, osmosis only works with plants, but I have found myself quite capable of concocting edible meals without a recipe. I give her the credit for that.

My sister takes very good care of me. She has always been there when I’ve needed a sounding board or a touchstone or a hug or an encouraging word. She’s always made me feel welcome. She’s always cheered me on.

She embodies all of the best aspects of my mother but, long ago, she raised her game to another level. My mother was insanely proud of her namesake. There are stories of my mom leading church ladies from Port Aransas on tours of my sister’s residence. Sometimes even catching her by surprise.

We’ve had our disagreements but we’ve always set them aside. Besides, how can any disagreement fester when the next morning you’re pleasantly greeted by someone who plies you with culinary delights made from the heart?

You can’t, even if you wanted to.

It’s my sister’s birthday today. I didn’t get her a card because I know she is one of my most avid readers. I thought she deserved a whole column and I thought I could capture the essence of her in a thousand words or less. But the encomiums could go on for pages.

She’s just that special.

Luv U Peggy Ann Moore (Barron)!

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First of all, if you are interested in international intrigue and a mystery and globe trotting and exotic settings, check out A Dangerous Business by McNary Lynch. This is my sister, Pam’s work-of-art. The pen name - I believe - she cleverly lifted from ancestors or cousins.

John Prine’s song, The Third of July, seemed appropriate. I’d never heard of it until it crossed my Twitter feed this morning. It’s not a tear jerker, or all that humorous, but it IS the third of July after all.

Also, this looks like a fun rabbit hole to explore. Oooooo, look! It has an interactive map!

INTERACTIVE MAP: UFO Sightings Taken Seriously by the U.S. Government

Mysterious lights. Sinister saucers. Alien abductions. Between 1947 and 1969, at the height of the Cold War, more than 12,000 UFO sightings were reported to Project Blue Book, a small, top-secret Air Force team. Their mission? To scientifically investigate the incidents and determine whether any posed a national security threat. Here are some of their most fascinating cases, along with other seminal UFO sightings.