Meet the Wedding Party - Best Man Edition

Christopher Wines Burniske was conceived just outside of Lisbon, Portugal on June 12th, 1989. If you wonder how I know, I was there... In Portugal, that is, not at the conception. It was all part of the plan, a pregnancy over the summer with a birth in the spring. The actual inspiration for the plan is fuzzy, although a letter requesting a little brother has been produced as possible source. This party wishes to plead the fifth in reference to any such letter, although I believe our mother might say otherwise.

His birth came on March 10th, 1990, early in the morning in Quito, Ecuador. He was an impatient baby in a country that is never in a hurry. Not only did our parents have to hurry around in order to make the drive up from Cumbaya to Quito, but their arrival at the hospital caught the doctor off guard as well: he wasn’t there. The story goes that, as my parents waited for Christopher, and the doctor, to arrive, they played Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, wondering during which season he would arrive. Maybe spring would signify a youthful spirit, summer a child full of life, and autumn might be a calm soul. He came out in winter. You go listen to the Four Seasons and tell me what that means…

Christopher enjoyed his first years of life outside the nine-month Jacuzzi. Raised in a house surrounded by both Spanish and English, he seemed to be full of language. His vocabulary was a collage of languages slapped together with the added touch only a child can put on language, making understanding him a linguistic accomplishment worthy of a line on a resume.

Yet, with so many amazing vocalizations, his most famous oratory endeavor at that early age was attempting his name. As if to test him, our mother would show him a family portrait, pointing at each member while asking, “Who is this? Who is this Christopher?” He would go through the names, say, “Mom-mie”, ”Da-da”, and “Dut-tin”. However, one name seemed to elude him, his own.

“Who’s that? Who is that Christopher?”

Silence.

“Who is this Christopher?”

Silence…

Until one day, when again presented with this conundrum, he said:

“Kiki.”

Hence a childhood nickname was born. That nickname has since morphed into a variety of forms including Kikster, Kik, Chris, Texas, Tex, Blondie, Surfer Dude, Aloha Man, Big Papi, CB, Bird Boy, Christofer, and of course, Maverick.

At the age of two, Christopher and his family moved to the location that is very near the furthest place on earth from his birthplace, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. Here, he entered into what many refer to as early childhood, or what we called, the “I POOP ON YOU” years. Yes, Christopher was fond of going up to people and threatening them with his own feces. Some felt his claim was a sign of affection, showing that he appreciated the person he was threatening. Yet, like the family pet that leaves a dead bird in your shoe, the gift went unappreciated. Fortunately, he was a dog with no bite. Christopher also showed a great interest in art. Whether drawing with chalk on the driveway or crayon on the faux-marble, his art was always larger then life and rarely contained to a page.

As I think back, there are numerous stories of Christopher throughout my life. Saying, “My mom took my little brother to the emergency room because he split his chin open while sliding face first on wet cement,” to the parents of my friends who were dropping their kids off for my sleepover birthday party in June. Then there was the time Christopher had me hook him up to our dog’s runner. He started running as fast as he could to the end of the runner, expecting the line to just pop off, but instead he ended up vertical to the ground before landing on his ass. Playing football, 1-on-1, on the opposite sides of puberty, and Christopher getting anywhere from 8 to 24 downs to go from one side of our back yard to the other. He would put on an old plastic Giants helmet, lower his head, and just try to run at me. I, in turn, took this opportunity to repeatedly throw him to the ground. Then the times my parents went on “business trips,” leaving me to watch Christopher, and I in turn left him in the closet, telling him we were playing hide and go seek. He just thought I was really, really bad seeker.
He also has a long list of accomplishments to his name. He was recognized as a junior MESA candidate at the age of four. He served as president of his elementary school. He was so trusted they let him count the ballots for his own election (he won the election 21-1). He once struck out 10 batters in 3 innings before becoming a Little League All-Star. He ran at the Hawaii State meets his sophomore, junior, and senior years in both cross country and track, finishing 5th in XC as a senior. He is one with the wave, a surfer willing to do anything in order to find the waves. There is no paddle too long, no low tide too early, nor any man in a grey suit that will keep him away from his waves. He was pictured in Sports Illustrated as one of the top athletes in the nation. He drinks so much Coke he was a semi-finalist for their national scholarship program. He was summoned by POTUS to the White House. He is currently attending Stanford University where he is planning a counter-revolution that would remove laptops from the classroom so students would start taking notes in class again.

Most importantly, Christopher is my brother. As his older brother, he has taught me about responsibility, about being a role model, and the value in thinking of others, not just yourself. When he was a fifth grader, I remember him worrying about how he would do on the SAT, or if he would do as well as I did in high school. Yet in his own academic accomplishments he has consistently matched if not surpassed my own. He has shown a great deal of commitment to his family, making sacrifices throughout our father’s illness, spending time at home helping out when most high school student would be hanging with friends. He has always shown support and a belief in me that goes beyond family, because the belief was genuine. For everything we have been through and how much he means to me, I am thankful that he will be standing next to me as my best man.
Note: Some or all of this may or may not be true.