Dallas Morning News

This is the first thing I hear every time I come home. For years it seems, the first hellos upon entering the house were always bypassed by my brother in his urgency, looking me in the eyes in what could be the only time he ever does so, saying,

"Summer, I want Dallas Morning News 1983, 84, 85 and 1988"

And for years I would always float past him, my mind on other things, programmed to react with precise oblivion (and a hint of annoyance), "Yes, Ryan."

Not anymore. Maybe it's because I'm older? I don't know. But for some reason now I strain to hear what he says, to write them down in my head so I can repeat the action on paper later. Then maybe we can find them - those lost editions - and maybe he will be content.

I know we've looked for them before. My brother has been taken to Half Priced Books endless times in search of such tomes. My mother recalled a time she spent hours at the local library while he scrambled through dusty shelves of Dallas Morning News archives, looking for whatever month or year could unlock the prize. Whenever she came close he would shut the book in his possession, peering over his shoulder to note the disturbance, and start afresh with another book. Mommy says she thinks he's looking for old cigarette ads.

I hope we find them one day. I also hope that when we do he will be satisfied. I have a distinct fear, though, that he will just ask for Dallas Morning News 1989.