SENIOR VIEWPOINT Cookie Monster’s `Kid’ Sister Is a Hit By John-Paul Hezel

Courtesy J.P. Hezel The `coolest’ picture of John-Paul and Dianne available at press time.

Every time I go to my sister’s Village B apartment, I don’t leave for hours. I’ll stop by after class at 5:30 p.m., and I won’t leave till 2 a.m. Her place is like a black hole. She’ll make me pasta for dinner, I’ll use her computer to write a paper, I’ll take a nap on her futon and she’ll bake me chocolate chip cookies (more on this later). She’ll complain about homework, I’ll complain about lack of sleep, I’ll check my e-mail and she’ll say I’m obsessed with fantasy baseball (I admit it). We’ll laugh at our mother’s “miss you” phone calls, we’ll reminisce about mischievous Tuesday nights with our father when our mother was at work, we’ll chat about our respective friends and we’ll fight like we have for the past 19 years. Her roommates are always entertained. It’s great.

I like to tell people that my sister followed me to Georgetown, and I like to tell my sister that I got her in. Unfortunately for my ego, neither is true. She wanted to go here before I did, and she would have been accepted even if I had attended the Red Sox College of Self-Pity. I tell her that she studies too hard, but I just wish I had the same work ethic – and GPA. Maybe I can borrow a 10th of a point – or two.

Anyone who knows my sister knows that she makes chocolate chip cookies baked to perfection. They’re soft but not gooey, sand colored but not white, extra-chocolaty but not overbearingly sweet. Our father scarfs them down, my friends beg for them, her friends steal them – and I do all of the above. When my roommate has a fight with his girlfriend or when I bomb an exam, she leaves a message on our answering machine informing us that she has cookies stashed away in her room for us to pick up. My friend even made his famous burgers in exchange for her famous cookies, which are in higher demand than PlayStation 2.

So, yes, my sister loves to bake. She also loves to hit – me. Not just little jabs, but full wound-up blows to the left arm. I’m literally her personal punching bag, especially when she’s having a bad day. Sometimes I give her a dead arm to reestablish my big brother authority, but it never works. She just punches me harder the next time, and it doesn’t help that my friends give her tips on how to hit with more precision and force (ouch!). I should learn to wear protective armor.

People often ask me how I like going to go to college with my younger sister. I tell them I love it and point out the fact that we have taken three classes together over the past two years as proof. That’s right, three classes – music, psychology and English. Hezel One and Hezel Two. Hezel the Elder and Hezel the Younger. We motivate each other to do well, and compete to see who can do better. And we keep score. Right now it’s 1-1-1: I beat her in music, she beat me in psych and so far it’s a draw in English. I hope she doesn’t win this third round, `cause if she does, I might have to return to school for Round Four. I can deal with a series tie, but a loss? Hell no!

Last week, after our second to last class together, my sister and I hit up Ben and Jerry’s on M St. for their annual “free-cone day” (which should be considered a national holiday). This was one of the final occasions on which we’ll hang out before I head home to Bedford, Mass., where I, for the first time in memory, will be the only child. My sister, who was alone with my parents during my first two years at Georgetown, assures me that I’ll get used to it.

But I know I’ll miss her. It’s fun to study and grab lunch with your best friend. It’s comforting to have someone close by with whom you can’t get angry at or who can’t get angry with you for more than five minutes. It’s cool to have your “kid” sister around to tell you a funny story, make a snide comment and keep you in line. And it’s nice to disappear occasionally into a black hole where no one (except maybe your mother) can find you.

My sister’s name is Dianne, but I usually refer to her as “My Sister.” She will be a junior next year here at Georgetown, while I will be at home trying to figure out my life. But although I’ll be 450 miles away from her, I know one thing is for certain: If I have a bad day, there will be a message on my machine at home with some words that will make me smile.

“J-P, I baked you cookies . and I mailed them out today.”

John-Paul Hezel is a senior in the College and a former sports editor for The Hoya.