By Staff Writer Judi Weiss

My mother once told someone that if the walls in our house had ears, they would hear a great big laugh. And it’s true. I was born into a family that loves to laugh.

From my older sister, who can make me laugh when I want to cry, to my younger sister, who juts out her chin while doing her flawless impression of Count Olaf, my family is the reason why I laugh.

When my oldest sister was at her graduation ceremony, my then eight-year-old sister was ready for it to be over. When the speaker took a pause in his long speech, my youngest sister jumped to her feet and clapped her hands together. A single clap can make a pretty decent echo in a silent auditorium.

My father grabbed the back of her shirt and pulled her into her chair, while she grinned. That same speaker was praying later and I, subtly, checked the paper to see when my sister’s name would be called. When the speaker said “amen” the whole auditorium was dead quiet as my youngest sister rang out the words “Judi didn’t keep her eyes closed!”

My dad scowled at her then turned his glare upon me and all I could do was offer a pathetic shrug and turn back to the ceremony.

This is the same sister who stood in church, pointed across the auditorium at this guy I have a crush on and said, “That’s him?”

This is the same sister that was behind us one second at a rest area, then was gone the next. My mom and sisters, along with me, broke into a moment of panic before my dad came out of the men’s bathroom, dragging my youngest sister along. She had followed him in and promptly yelled, “Dad! You can’t come into the girl’s bathroom!”

This is the same sister who the doctors told my mother would never make it. They told my mother she would have a miscarriage. In December of 1999 my youngest sister was born, and she was healthy.

This is the same sister that I thank God for. We all know that without her, the walls wouldn’t hear so much happiness and laughter.