Brothers

To most people looking in from the outside, my brother and I would be complete polar opposites.  My brother had 8+ years of college, myself, 2 years at tech school.  He was a decorated college professor and I a plumber. I have never posted a “blog” on face book, texted anyone, watched a single episode of survivor, listened to an “usher” song or read a people magazine, or played a video game.  See, we are not so opposite after all.

I guess my fondest memories of Don were when we were both young adults.  We both lived at home at my parent’s house in CT.  My father finished half of the basement off and my brother used, as a bedroom/office.  He was going to college full time and spent the rest of the time in the basement.  Every so often he would emerge and partake in what ever I was doing above ground.  We would play wiffle ball games with my friends, set back games that usually sent him back to the basement tired and broke,  an occasional Red Sox game, or a concert. 

I will never forget when Don decided to ride my snowmobile for the first time. There was a big snowstorm and I could not resist starting up the snowmobile.  So Don came outside and put on my helmet but it was too small for his head, but I insisted he wear it. After a few tense moments, Don was riding circles in the open field with a smile ear to ear.  Imagine Don ripping around the field with a shield that would not close with the word “Wildcat” across the snowmobile’s hood. 

I really enjoyed when Don entered my world.  When Don left for Michigan I was heartbroken.  Now, I ‘d have to watch the reruns of Miami Vice and Crime Story in the middle of the night by myself.

Don came home one early summer to clear his remaining stuff from the house. I suggested the two of us go away to climb Mt. Washington for a couple of days.  He quickly agreed, he wanted to escape the tension of our parents impending divorce.  My brother’s scars ran longer and deeper than mine.  I learned this at an early age.  The hike to the top of Mt. Washington is about 5 hours.  The last 1 mile of it is above the tree line.   We had to climb up boulders the size of cars. At about the 4 hour mark, Don was getting noticeably fatigued and tired.  Of course his Vietnam era combat boots with broken laces and his cut off sweat pants did not help.  He agreed to stop and rest while I continued the climb.  Some 200 yards later I looked back to see Don resting below me on a rock watching me.  I had a horrible feeling I was abandoning my brother, I decided to turn back, and we both descended, satisfied.

I enjoyed seeing Don as a father and was very proud of him in every way.  When he came home this summer with his family, 3 years had elapsed since we’d see each other.  After are handshake/hug greeting, I could sense Don looking at me inconspicuously, it wasn’t until he said, “I’m kind of disappointed I thought you’d have more white hair by now”. Then I knew he was back.  And as we watched our children playing together I knew some where along the line we both became men and now I’m a man with a long deep scar.

Your brother, Davey