A Note To My Brother

Dear Adam,

I realize that as my older brother it was always your job to put me in my rightful place and to toughen me up by making fun of me as a child. It's doubtless that I gave you ample material to work with, given my penchant for wearing only one sock, my constant mispronunciation of words, sleep-talking about my love for the color pink, and, of course, that persistent fear of drains. However, I feel it is my right - maybe even my duty - to defend two of my actions that as a child (and still at select family events) brought on many occasions of mockery.

Now you will remember, dear brother, that as a child, you would make faces at and make fun of the delight I took in dipping my fries in not only ketchup, but mayonnaise as well. "Gross," you would say, "Disgusting. Who would ever think of doing that?" Well now I can tell you who - the good people of Germany. You see, it seems that the German folks have always had a love of mayonnaise that expresses itself, among other ways, as the preferred condiment to sit alongside ketchup when eating fries and even hotdogs. That's right. I am not the only person who liked to put ketchup and mayonnaise on my hotdogs. If you order fries (pommes) here in Germany, they will ask you if you want mayonnaise and ketchup and will put a big glob of each on your plate.

Doubtless you also remember, dear brother, that as a child I would open the refrigerator and take cold hotdogs straight from the package and eat them. Again, you thought this was gross. Again, you thought, "Who would do this?" Well, I am here to tell you that I am not alone in my cold, uncooked hotdog eating. It seems that the good people in Germany also eat "raw" hotdogs and even cut them up - never cooking them - into tiny bites to make "wurst salad." So you see, as a child, I innately sensed a connection with the German people and, affected by my German roots, shared in their love for ketchup with mayonnaise and raw hotdogs. Don't blame me, blame my German heritage. So now the stories will have to come to an end. In fact, in case the other weird things I did as a child are also culturally rooted (and one would hate to accidently offend another culture), I should never be made fun of again. Unless maybe it is for being too smart or too funny or too good-looking. I think I can live with these. But as for the others, I have found just reasons for at least two of my past weird behaviors. Now if only I could find people who eat sticks of butter....