Category Archives: Twin Brother

Oh Brother, It’s My Brother!

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Guest blog by BHD’s twin brother, J

Hey, Bro!

My goodness gracious, big guy, from reading your blog, you outdid yourself on your day off! I have always called you jokingly, “Taz,” because you remind me of the Tazmanian Devil in the Looney Tunes cartoons that we watched when we were growing up. Well, Taz, what did you do after dinner? LOL!

I spoke with you on the phone on your day off, and you sounded as if you had all the time in the world to catch up with me. I can imagine, though, you had the phone cradled between your ear and shoulder while you multi-tasked. (I have seen you in that position before.) I cannot imagine how you get all those things done and still go to bed by 8:30 or 9. I’m sure [your partner] noticed the clean baseboards! Ha!

Things are going well here in Europe. Work is busy and setting up our new flat is going great. S (J’s wife) has begun teaching again at University, and is enjoying it immensely. Thank you for sending us a couple smoke alarms! You are always thinking of our safety and well-being.

All things Christmas are breaking out in the stores around here, like I bet it is back home. And speaking of that, S and I are coming home this year for Christmas. We can’t wait to see you and [your partner] again, as well as our brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, the “greats” and everyone else. I want S to experience our family’s Christmas traditions, and I hope we are there in time for the annual caroling back in the old ‘hood.

I know it has always bothered you that there is all this Christmas stuff in the stores before Thanksgiving. Remember, we don’t have that holiday here, so there is no official “rule” on when it is okay to display that stuff. With the economy the way it is, I don’t blame them for trying to start their sales early.

But I remember: all your Christmas shopping is done! Bully for you. I’m nowhere near ready.

You will still wait until after Thanksgiving to get out Christmas decorations. In fact, as I recall, you will be having another large joyful feeding frenzy all day on Thanksgiving with your senior friends, so I presume you need all the space you can get without having it taken up with a Christmas tree and our Lionel train set.

I hope you will post this email as a guest blog, to give you a day off from the blogging and to let me express, once again, how much I admire you. Io ti amo sempre.

Warmly,

Your little bother, J

I Am Who I Am

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I received an email the other day, generated from this blog, which said, in part, “it is gratifying to know that there are decent, well adjusted, friendly gay men like you. Honestly, I have been struggling with ‘coming out’ for years. … Just wanted you to know that I have enjoyed your insights and interesting discussions in your blog. It has been quite therapeutic.”

Wow… who woulda thunk? I mean, I am just a regular guy with some specific interests and passions that a blog is well-suited to use as a medium to talk about those interests. Also, I just like to write 🙂

I am uncertain how my musings can serve to be therapeutic, but if it helps, I am happy to do so.

It really all boils down to one thing that makes me the man I am: my parents and family raised me well. They helped me to develop self-confidence and a self-assured nature. I was always a klutz, athletically disinclined, and more interested in reading books than throwing a ball. I saw my older brothers and other men in my life and wanted to be like them, but knew that I was different. I tried to do things that they did, like play sports or date women, but it never worked. And you know what? My family didn’t make fun of me or mock my failures. Instead, they accepted me for who I am and asked me, “what do you like? How can I help you fulfill your interests?”

Perhaps they didn’t ask questions exactly like that (I can’t remember), but I never once felt ridiculed for being “different.” I always felt loved and accepted for who I am. They let me try various things, and when it didn’t work out or I goofed up, they just smiled and said, “okay, let’s try something else.” Honestly, never once did I feel humiliated or belittled by my family.

Sure, there were bullies in school and short-sighted nobodies in my adult life who were insecure about themselves, and felt better if they could belittle me to make themselves feel bigger and better. Sometimes their actions hurt me, both physically and emotionally. But my family — and as an adult, my partner — always and without fail point out why they love me for who I am and that my inner strengths make me a better person overall, encouraging me to rise above the hurt and anger and respond with sympathy, kindness, and compassion.

Actually, it is intriguing to me as I look back that my family never said bad things about other people, but only highlighted the good things in me and others around us. Their optimism, sense of hope, and strong belief in me inspired and empowered achievements beyond my wildest dreams. I became who I am and achieved what I have done because of how they transferred their strength to me through positive support.

I realize how fortunate I am. Not everyone has a family like mine. Not every gay person lives in a community where diversity is a way of life, not something to be “celebrated” on a particular day of recognition. Not every gay guy has a partner who is his equal in intelligence, financial security, and savvy. Not every gay guy has friends he’s known for life (and some less long) who form the fabric of a rich net supporting him and his goals, failures, and fun regardless of his sexual orientation. Not every gay guy is appreciated by a cadre of seniors and neighbors for being “that guy who knows his stuff,” rather than “that gay guy …”. Not every gay guy works for an employer that evaluates him based on skills and abilities, and doesn’t make judgments based on sexual orientation. Not every gay guy is in a situation as I am to be able to “let go” and be who I am, out and open, free and honest, secure and confident.

In summary, I guess what allows me to be a decent, well-adjusted, and friendly guy is that I can freely be who I am. I can make mistakes, and be forgiven. I have learned to “let go” any concerns about what other people may say about me (boots, leather, being gay, or my appearance). I have learned that being honest (and not living in the closet) is absolutely refreshing and invigorating. I can learn, and adjust from my learning. I can do what I do best, and choose not to do what I don’t do well. And that’s okay. I am who I am.

Life is short: Love me for who I am, ’cause I am not someone else.

Christmas Presents and New Years Surprises

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‘Tis the season that all of the “Christmas Presents and New Years Surprises” in my family have birthdays. That is, 12 of the 15 of us siblings have birthdays ranging from mine on 16 August to mid-September. We collectively refer to those of us with August birthdays as our parents’ “Christmas Presents” or the September babies as “New Years’ Surprises” up through and including our “last rose of summer” (my ‘little’ sister, all 90 pounds of her, was born September 20.)

My Dad was a diplomat and worked in Europe for six months each year, returning to the U.S. to bring us back from the Oklahoma homestead to our Maryland home by mid-December each year, so we would enjoy Christmas there.

Do the math… when is nine months after Christmas and New Years? Te he… hiya, Mom & Dad, here we are!

While some of us were multiples, such as with me and my twin, we each enjoyed our own separate birthday party, even if it were not on the actual date of our birth anniversary. Thus, this weekend, one sister is having a party on Saturday and a brother is having his on Sunday, even though their actual birthdays were last week and next week, respectively… go figure.

I’ll be the bad Biker Dude Uncle/Great Uncle who shows up on his big Harley to terrorize the kiddos, give them rides on the bike, and share the joy of family, extended family, in-laws, out-laws, and sundry others. My partner will enjoy blissful peace back home… he does not attend these parties with me. (Large families can be somewhat overwhelming, but I am accustomed to it. I mean, after all, I was born into one!)

I will bring a card, good cheer, and a huge smile for all. That’s what life is all about: love for family and our caring concern for each other.

Life is short: show those you love that you love them!

Debunking My Own Myth

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My brother outdid himself with his blog post here yesterday. Believe me, I am no saint. I have made many mistakes, and have much yet to learn.

If I were all what my brother makes me out to be, I would exhibit far more patience than I do, and I would be more open and accepting of things that other people do that drive me nuts. Those behaviours like yakking on a cell phone while driving or riding a motorcycle in sneakers should not make me so crazy, but they do. Thus, I am no saint.

But let me tell you, I think the world of my brother. He has worked so very hard to get where he is in life. Everything was harder for him, and he had to study very hard in school his whole life. He worked hard, far harder than I ever did in school, and it paid off. J struggled and studied and got tutoring and help from my family, me, and others. His good grades in school were an indication of what he can do when he sets his mind to it. Me? I was a sloucher and got straight A’s. Go figure. But J never resented that; he just told me, “atta boy!”

Don’t throw a ball my way or ask me any questions about sports. In our birthing process, J got every nucleic acid of DNA related to sports and I got none of it. J is naturally athletic. Graceful and talented, he went to college on a sports scholarship. He earned several honors while playing football in high school and college. Me? Someone always had to tell me what side of the field to look toward and say, “yay!” While I was always J’s number one cheerleader, I never liked sports and my disinterest in sports remains the same to this day.

My brother commented about how I handled a community meeting the other night. It wasn’t as raucous as he made it sound. Perhaps, though, I employed listening and response skills that I learned from my Mentor and friend, who served as an elected official for 17 years in the district of the county where I live, until her untimely death. Gosh, I still miss her lots. But by acting on what she taught me, perhaps that is how I carry on her vision and her teachings.

Ordinarily, riding my Harley 300 miles (500km) in one day as my brother and I did on Tuesday is not something I prefer to do. If it were anyone else other than my brother asking me to ride that far in one day, I would have politely declined. But it was J who asked. He never asks me for anything. How could I refuse? My brother has always been a man who carries out his plans and realizes dreams.

One thing about riding motorcycles with a twin is that we can intuitively tell when we need to stop and take a break. It may be after a half-hour or an hour, but frequent stops help stretch the ol’ muscles and relieve our saddle soreness.

We had a number of times when that “twin thing” happened. For example, when we were riding and looking for a place to stop, we both would head to the same gas station. We complete each other’s sentences. We think alike in many ways, yet we are different men.

My brother is more comfortable in khakis and sneakers when dressed casually. He looks great in a suit, which he wears to work every day. I’m more of the Wranglers and boots kinda guy, and I do not like how I look in a suit because it makes me so uncomfortable.

He does not credit himself adequately for his diplomatic skills. He employs tact and is gentle when he communicates with others. Perhaps that’s why my partner and my brother had so many long, intense conversations during this visit. My brother is the only one in our family who can engage my partner in conversation.

He is a very good husband to his wife, and a wonderful brother to all of us in the family. He doesn’t forget the dates of all of our birthdays — including the huge bunch of nieces, nephews, and “greats” that are in our large family. Again, where we are similar is that he remembers to send cards, as I do.

I was truly honored to have my brother choose to come spend a week with me for our birthday. He could have gone anywhere; taken his wife to a beautiful resort; or gone on an adventure to sate his wanderlust. But he chose to come stay with me. He chose to rent a Harley, and since he does not ride regularly, it took a lot of work for him to get comfortable riding again. But he did that for me. Further, he does not wear boots, but once more, for me, he wore a different pair of my motorcycle boots every day while visiting me to use while riding. Better yet, he kept them on while we were not riding. I think he looks great in boots; however, they are not his choice of regular footwear.

My brother has always been my soulmate and best friend, and always will be. He accepts me and loves me for who I am. It doesn’t matter to him that I am gay; what matters to him is that I am happy and leading a productive, fulfilling life. Happy I am with my wonderful partner, our home, my current employment, and living in a great community where my roots run deep.

I treasure him more than words can express. My buddy, my best friend, my brother. Smart, reliable, honest, friendly, and fun. What a great guy. I love you too, ‘bro, with all my heart.

Life is short: show those you love that you love them.

Enthusiasm for Life

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Guest Blog by J (BHD’s twin brother)

What’s it like to know and observe someone whose boundless energy to enjoy life surrounds you? Let me tell you: it’s exhausting! But it is very fun!

My brother who goes by BHD or “Booted Harleydude” on this blog (and we call him lots of other names, too), is surrounded by people who think the world of him. I would like to claim that I am his number one cheerleader, but I will relinquish il numero uno to his partner who cares so deeply for him. I am so pleased that he is happy, which makes him joyful, playful, funny, and great to be around. This is why I came back to visit this week.

You see, I have a job which is interesting but very challenging. It sucks the energy out of me. I need these visits with my brother to recharge myself. I love my wife and she’s terrific. She is a wonderful partner in all respects. Her perspective on life, though, is from “old family Europe.” If I have to explain, you wouldn’t understand.

She is always very serious, and it takes a lot to make her laugh. That’s one of the reasons why I love my brother so much, because when he was Best Man at our wedding in Venice, Italy, he was the only one who was able to make my wife laugh — not once, not twice, but many times. She was in such a dither about the wedding, my brother intuitively realized that she needed to laugh which would help her (and me) lighten up. He did it by sharing amusing anecdotes about what he observed other people doing or saying. Because he looks so American, Italians speak freely in front of him because they do not think he can understand them, yet he speaks the language fluently. They said the craziest things, which he made even funnier when he relayed them to us.

I spent yesterday accompanying my brother on rounds he was making within the retirement community where our Mom lived. He baked two cakes very early in the morning before I awoke. One was for a friend who lives there, and just got home from the hospital. Another was for a friend of his who was feeling a bit lonely since her family never visits.

Then I became his helper when he had to fix a broken light switch for one of his “crew” (as he calls his elderly friends.) That repair was more complicated than either of us thought it would be, because the wiring was hard to reach and brittle. But it was not a problem for my brother: he kept at it persistently until it was fixed. No sooner than he finished there, he walked across the street to fix a drawer slider for another elderly friend. The drawer kept falling out every time she opened it. Not any more! (His toolbox is a cross between Mary Poppins’ and MacGyver’s bag — he has everything!)

These are the little things that my brother does for other people that I observe, and he keeps telling me that “it’s nothing.” Well, it IS something, big guy! Few others do things like that.

We had lunch with our Aunt, who at age 94 remains bright, cheerful, albeit quite forgetful. She is generally quiet, and doesn’t say much. That is, until my brother walks in the door. How she lights up! She smiles, laughs, and shares stories about our family that I enjoy hearing again. He encourages her to express herself, which helps her with her memory problems. What a caring soul my brother is.

We returned home and went for our last ride together (for this visit) on our motorcycles to return my rented Harley. We rode through the old neighborhood where we grew up along the way. My goodness, so much has changed. Funny though, several people waved at my brother as we rode by; he has held his connections to our home stomping grounds.

When we got home, his partner was just returning from work. My whirling-dervish brother greeted his partner and helped unpack his car with things he brought home from the market. Then, right before my eyes and in less than a half-hour, my brother prepared a splendid meal. He pulled out chicken breasts which had been magically marinading in the fridge and grilled them. He cut it up and put on salad rich with home-grown vegetables from his garden. What a light, delicious, and filling meal! He says he does this “all the time.” Gee, my wife and I have much to learn. We eat at restaurants more often than we should.

When I thought our day was over, my brother had changed clothes again and said that he had to go to a community meeting that he couldn’t get out of. He explained that factions were warring over a development project. I decided to go with him to watch him in his “community leader” role.

When we arrived, my brother greeted everyone by name. “No big deal,” he says, “these people are my neighbors.” My brother explained the situation clearly and succinctly. It impressed me how he remained calm in spite of some rather emotional outbursts by different parties. I think his response to emotions is to be even more calm. His voice grows quiet; his brow is quizzical but not angry; and he asks, rather than answers. By the end of the meeting, the different sides had resolved to work out their differences. That’s my brother: the mediator, friend, good neighbor, listener, and problem solver.

When we got home about 9, my brother and his partner went to bed. I can’t go to sleep that early. My brother, though, always has been the “early bird.” I stayed up to write this blog post and check my email. I told my wife in an email that I missed her, but am enjoying this trip very much because of what my brother does for my soul.

I am very blessed to have this energetic, bright, and POWERFUL soulmate, best friend, and brother rolled into one intelligent, thoughtful, caring and impressive man. Isn’t it great to call your brother your best friend? He always has been, and always will be.

Hold your friends close, and your family closer. At least, that’s what my brother always says! As I prepare to return back home to Europe, I will be fondly remembering this very special birthday week with a man I love, respect, and admire. I will always hold him very close in my heart. I love you, ‘bro!

500km to Cumberland and Back?

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Yesterday morning my visiting twin brother, J, was up bright and early. Of course, I was up two hours before him, but for J to get up at 6:00am, I thought something was on his mind. It was. He came bounding into the kitchen with a bright idea: “Let’s go visit Shirley!”

Shirley? Man, I haven’t seen her in ages. Shirley was the first person to give J and me a “real” job, working at her store in the neighborhood shopping center. We were both 16 and wanted to do something productive during the summer and earn some spending money beyond what we got for mowing lawns. But nobody wanted to hire “kids,” nor two of us to boot. But we were bound and determined to get a job at the same place and work together. Shirley gave us a chance, and we will never forget it. We must have done something right, because she asked us back to work for her part-time throughout high school and during the summers. We both owe a lot to her for the faith she invested in us when we were teenagers.

We thought Shirley was “old.” I mean, she was 30!!! Ancient by a 16-year-old’s perspective–almost twice our age! But she took a gamble on hiring two neighborhood kids, and we proved to her that she could depend on us. She sold the store about 20 years ago and moved to Cumberland, Maryland, which (to me) is waaaaaaaaaay up there, far away. And J was dead-set on going to see her.

He said that he had called her yesterday, just to say hello. But one thing led to another… and he promised to visit. What better way to rack up miles on his rental Harley and enjoy some nice, warm sunny weather than to ride to see her?

J asked me, “can you get that GPS of yours to plot a non-highway route to get there?” I thought about it, and used mapping software, and soon enough had a route figured out that went via ferry across the Potomac River into Virginia, and up through the beautiful Shenandoah foothills. Here’s the route:
It took five hours, but we stopped a few times to stretch and drink water that we had brought with us. Even as comfortable as my Road King is and his Ultra, we both suffered from “Harley Butt” which is a common occurrence on long rides.

We got there in time for a nice long lunch at a restaurant with a beautiful view of the Cumberland Gap and the Potomac River. We had a lot of fun catching up with our dear friend. She is doing very well, enjoying life, and keeping busy. Unfortunately, the ride back was daunting, and I wanted to get home before our dinnertime and to avoid storms that were predicted for late afternoon.

After an all-too-brief visit, we remounted our iron steeds. Concerned that a five-hour return would be too long, J agreed that we should take the highway back. It’s shorter, quicker, and more direct. Though riding alongside big rigs at 70mph isn’t our cup-o-tea, we shifted into sixth gear, clicked on the cruise control, and put our boots up on the highway pegs. We stopped only once for gas on the way back. I am glad that we didn’t dawdle on the return, because we got back home just as the skies opened up with a deluge of a thunderstorm.

We had a lot of fun: two brothers out on the road on their Harleys, enjoying life, visiting with someone to whom we owe a debt of gratitude for having faith in us, and crafting the taller tail to regale to my partner over dinner last night. The hills were higher, the roads were narrower, and the snow was deeper (oops, not that!)… we just laughed and laughed. My partner just smiled. He told me as he held me in his arms as we were in bed that he was so happy that I am really enjoying my birthday “staycation” with J, and how pleased he was that J was staying with us and sharing such enthusiastic joy. Heck, that’s what life is all about!

Oh, why no pictures of J? He is dead serious about not having his image appear anywhere on the Internet. I understand; he has a sensitive job. But his legs in an old pair of my Banana Frye campus boots appear here. He asked to wear these boots, specifically, because it’s what we wore in high school, and he remembered them. He looked really cool in those Fryes!

Life is short: get out and ride, love your family and your friends with all you’ve got!

Leo Ride Leader

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Today, August 16, is my birthday and one that I share with my twin, “J,” who is visiting with me this week. Photo shown here was created by my buddy, David (Bamaboy), who is a real whiz with Photoshop. He has a great sense of humor, and has become a terrific friend. Thanks, man! J and I laughed our heads off!

Yesterday, I took J to pick up a Harley rental, but right after that, he needed to catch up on sleep since he was jet lagged from his long flight from Europe. While he was napping, I did a “pre-ride” with a buddy of a ride I led today. More on that below.

When I got back, my brother “abducted me” for a “let’s get lost” ride. We rode about 100 miles through Southern Maryland and ended up at another brother’s home, located on Maryland’s Chesapeake Bay. My partner was waiting there for us. This all had been arranged in secret, though I figured something was going on.

My brother invited a lot of the family over. We enjoyed a good old fashioned Maryland crab feast, with all the trimmings. We had a great time. I just love my family. Even my partner — the “less social” of our twosome — said that he really enjoyed it.

Today, I led a ride for my club. Each ride gets a title, and this one was simply, “My Birthday Ride.” Our destination was a frozen custard place that was far enough away that we would enjoy a nice ride through Maryland’s countryside to get there, but not take all day. I appreciated that an off-duty bike cop rode in the wing position, as he had a CB radio (I do not). He was able to talk to our sweep rider so we could get the group back together when we got separated in traffic in a couple places along the route.

My fellow club buddies were great to ride with, and all said they enjoyed the ride. Probably so, because of three things: 1) I did not miss a turn; 2) I did not ride through a water hazard nor ford a stream (LOL!); and it was just a great day for riding — sunny and warm, but not unpleasant.

I connected a motorcycle video recorder with the pencil camera pointing backwards from my bike. This shows what it’s like to lead the pack. Leading the pack is something that us leos are known to do.

Life is short: get out and enjoy it!


Rapito

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Guest blog

Io ho rapito mio fratello. Io lo porto via lui per il nostro compleanno. Lui scriverà dirgli quello che noi facevamo quando lui ritorna. O, se lui ritorna.

J (BHD’s twin brother)

BHD sez:

This is the only abduction ‘scene’ I can get into! I’ll see ya’ in a few days when our birthday celebrations are over!

Homecoming

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Guest Blog from BHD’s twin brother

Hey, brother, I’m coming home! You know I enjoy my work and my wife and I love where we live over here in Europe, but it’s not home. I have always been like you — I get homesick from time to time. I miss you. I miss our siblings. I do not remember what our nieces, nephews, and great nieces and nephews look like. Man, you can’t get a burger in Paris like they serve at our favorite little hangout. You can’t call a five cent euro coin a nickel, because it is copper in color. While gelato is great, I miss ice cream from the place Uncle Joe took us all the time.

I’m coming home! I want to rent a Harley and go riding with you again, like we did last year. Go get lost. Try out your new GPS, and this time, avoid water hazards (smile)! Let’s ride to see the corn as high as an elephant’s eye. (Just don’t sing to me, please!)

I’m coming home! I want to visit with our family, and especially our aunt to whom you lovingly provide care. I want to listen to her stories, laugh with her, share with her, and love her — as you do. I want to play games with the little ones, see what the bigger ones are up to, and congratulate our niece on her big honor she earned last week.

I’m coming home! I’m going to talk sense into that partner of yours, and encourage him to ease up on the demands for home renovation projects. Sure, you are skilled and can do a lot of things — but you need to get out and enjoy life. Spend time doing things you want to do — and perhaps not as much (at least while I’m there) for what you have to do. I look forward to giving your partner a big hug and talking world economics with him. He’s so astute, intelligent, and interesting.

I’m coming home! Our birthday is in a few weeks. That’s when you will see me for a visit. Though I can only stay a week, spending time with you will be my birthday present. I want to see you wearing the present I got you (smile again). I love you, ‘bro, with all my heart. See you soon!

J

My Brother’s Influence

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My twin brother, bless him, is always on my case about “not dressing the part.” He continually pressures me to “dress up more” since I work in a management position. I deal with many elected officials. I often represent my organization in meetings with officials from government agencies.

I have relented to wearing a tie when I have to go to these meetings, and even a jacket (if I absolutely must.) But I still steadfastly say “no” to dress shoes.

Or so I have said to my brother, who thinks that I am being more than stubborn. “Sei sempre così testadura!” he extolls.

He got “creative” this year for our birthday (still weeks away). He sent me a gift certificate from Kenneth Cole. He suggested that I get a “decent pair of shoes” with his generous gift in advance of national conference that I will be attending in Nashville later this month, and at which I will have to wear a suit most of the time (yuck!)

Well, I looked at the website and available footwear. My stomach turned into knots and I got a bad headache. Seriously, I can not consider wearing dress shoes. I can’t even consider wearing sneakers. Dress shoes make me ill. (Sorry to the shoe fetish guys — you have your interests and I have mine, and in this case, our interests do not intersect.)

I was considering “re-gifting” the gift certificate to my partner, but he stopped me cold when he said, “how would J [my twin] feel about that?” And of course I would tell him, if he didn’t know already. (That “twin-thing” is alive and real for us. He always knows what’s on my mind.)

I agonized over this for a couple weeks. Monday morning, J called me and said, “you haven’t gotten the shoes, have you? You won’t, will you? You’ve got that conference coming up, but this whole ‘shoe business’ has probably caused you a lot of agony, hasn’t it?” Man, that guy knows me. Guilty as charged!

Then he sent me back to the Kenneth Cole website, and suggested that I look at the “n-different” boot. The style is being discontinued. Other so-called boots that Kenneth Cole sells are just plain ugly (IMHO). But the “n-different” boot was, well, “different.” It’s a boot, at least. A lace-up, which my best friend “AZ” detests. But… it’s a boot. So I ordered a pair.

These “boot-ettes” arrived Tuesday (without even having to pay for next-day service!) I put them on and wore them to work yesterday, with a Harley tie that my brother gave me a few years ago. I’m wearing this stuff to prove to my brother that I can wear something a bit more dressy to work. Funny, at our staff meeting on yesterday, six people commented on the Harley tie, and two on the boots. “New shoes? Nice!” said the boss.

Life is short: show those you love that you love them. (Even if it kills ‘ya!)