Hi friend,

I’m Maryann Dean Buonomo – Madeleine’s older sister. I wanted to reach out to you today for a few reasons:

1. To let you know this coming Monday is Mad’s birthday!
2. To share some stories and photos of life with my little sister

And before I get on to the stories, I hope you might sign Madeleine’s birthday card and leave her a message for her big day.

Okay, now onto the stories – and this email is a little longer than what you’re used to, I know, but don’t worry – this is not a fundraiser, just stories!

Not only am I Mad’s older sister – I’m her only sister, and growing up, ours was a patriarchal household of the 1960s. Rounding out our family of ten were my parents, Bob and Mary, my grandmother, Madeleine Eaton (affectionately called Mama), and our five older brothers: Bobby; Harry; Michael; Jimmy; and Chris.

And while our household was certainly male-dominated, it was one filled with love and laughter. Our parents were gracious, big-hearted people bound up in an intense love for all of us. My brothers – whose clunky boy feet I can still hear bounding up the stairs, to each other's rooms for “cut up” sessions, and laughter – were (and still are!) all immensely witty and funny, each in their own style. To this day, I still find myself drawn to them at our large family gatherings – wanting to shoulder up next to them, to hear them talk and share stories.

Together, our give-and-take created an inclusive environment that drew all the neighbor kids to 208 Roberts Avenue. Now, in my sixties my girlfriends tell me:

“We all wanted to be at the Dean house – it was a blast.”

I give you this backdrop to set the scene for life with Madeleine. I had in those years, and still do now, a protective nature as Madeleine’s older and only sister. Growing up, we shared a room for all of our childhood years, and Madeleine and I had different ideas of what “bedtime” meant. As I’d reflect on the activities of the day with endless chatter, my sister’s big brown eyes would droop like curtains. She’d say to me:

“Maryann, I am so sleepy. If you have something important to say, pull the chain on the light above your head and say, ‘Important, important!’”

“But, Mad,” eleven-year old me thought as I endlessly yanked the light on and off, “all of this is important!” Ever committed, she’d prop herself up to listen. I remember countless nights of laughing ourselves to sleep via the light chain.

In time, older brothers married and moved out, and that freed up bedrooms throughout the house. Chris moved into one of the rooms, personalizing it with sports equipment, posters, and albums – and Madeleine watched with envy, eventually declaring she’d like that same independence, too.

Not me, I did not understand it. I was shocked, and heartbroken, she was my sis, my soulmate, how could she leave me? One would have thought youngest child Madeleine’s thirteen-year-old move to the third floor was a move to a different country.

Looking back on it, I think this was the beginning of what I now call “Madeleine fearlessness.” Sure, I’m the big sister, but she’s the brave sister, because:

• Whether it’s going all the way back to our childhood days on the boardwalk in Ocean City, New Jersey, where Madeleine would opt for the go-carts – buzzing engines, whipping around corners – as I gently suggested the toy boats or the merry-go-round, perhaps…
   
• Or our young adult days that found us on the Autobahn in Germany – Madeleine confidently behind the wheel doing 90 miles-per-hour while I manned the maps and passed the baguettes and cheese…
   
• Or just last year, when she stood before the nation – with fortitude, emotional intelligence, and aplomb – making the case to impeach a President…

I’ve come to realize that Madeleine has the quality that Ralph Waldo Emerson described as knowing “the importance of doing what you are afraid to do.”

Just a few weeks back, I was at another one of our large family gatherings – the wedding of my oldest son, Johnny. It was a day complete with heartwarming, funny speeches from my two other sons, laughter, and dancing. I progressed from quiet tearfulness to bawling my eyes out.

And right next to me? My sister, Madeleine – I reached out my hand to her, never saying a word, and she grabbed my hand and held with a force, an emotional grip that only two sisters could understand. Hand and heart and all the years propelling us forward to today.

Blessings to my dear younger sister on her sixty-third birthday. Nah, not possibly sixty-three, not possible, my mind wanders back, little sister – you are nine and I am eleven…

My hand reaches up out of the darkness, pulling the little light chain above my head

Mad, important, important! I’ll say.

Listen, sleepy sister – Important, important!

It’s your birthday today, light the candles and have the happiest of days!

I hope you’ll join me in wishing my little sister a happy birthday – you can sign her card here.

Thanks and love to you, Mad,

Maryann Dean Buonomo