Tonight I am celebrating the birth of one of the best people I know: my brother Alan (or Corky, Coco, Gus, etc. the many nicknames by which he’s been known over the years.) I am grateful for the relationship we have developed in our 50-plus years together.
My big brother is three years older than I am. Growing up he was, among other things, my chief tormentor, which is as it should be with big brothers and younger sisters. It was he who got me to try things I had no business doing (like smoking, drinking, and swearing), and got me and our younger sister into all kinds of trouble. He would do things, break things, take things and in all ways imaginable wreak havoc, and then when Mom would asked the four of us (Corky, me, Ruth and our other, older brother) who did it, we all knew it was Corky, but he never ‘fessed up. Subsequently we all got punished–Mom’s reasoning was that it had to be one of us so if she spanked all of us she’d be sure to get the perpetrator. So what if there were three innocent people who also got punished. Of course for a time, Mom had to be a little more creative with our spankings because Corky decided to steal and hide the belt she usually used to whip our behinds. That was when I was convinced that he had truly lost his mind. Amazingly, in spite of our repeated punishments because of his refusal to own up to his many transgressions, none of us ever dimed him out to Mom. We all just took our lickin’s and kept the whodunits to ourselves.
I must take a moment to say that we were very old school back in those days. When you misbehaved, you got your butt spanked. While some of my siblings might not necessarily agree, I think we all turned out alright in spite of periodic spankings (or what most of our family and friends called butt whippins.)
Camping Days--Left to Right: Me, Mom, Corky, and Ruth Sometime in the 70s
I had always known my brother to be someone I could count on no matter what was going on. He was a “go-t0” guy whom I would call, often about car issues as he has a knack with motorized things. But at various points throughout 2011, my year of challenge, he showed up in so many ways, always encouraging me and lifting my spirits when things got hard. And when the time came for me to move from California to the East Coast last fall, he flew out west to drive me across the country. (I recounted parts of our road trip in this blog, beginning on day 444 on September 30 through October 2, 2012.) Over the course of three days, my brother drove almost the entire 2200 miles from the East Bay of California to South Bend Indiana. I think I drove for a total of about 2 hours on one of those 12 to 15 hour days on the road. Over the course of the entire trip, he never allowed me to pay a single dollar for gas, lodging or food. It was as if he had put me and all my troubles on his back and was carrying me.
I owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to my brother, not just for his help during that rough patch in my life, but for the many lessons he taught me more by his example than in words. He has not had a great deal of material wealth, but he would literally give me the shirt off of his back if he thought I needed it. He is a husband and father to three terrific kids, the youngest of whom is a sophomore in college. He thinks maybe when she graduates he can finally think about slowing down a little bit. I have to believe he’s earned it. I am grateful for my big brother and am glad to dedicate tonight’s blog in celebration of his birthday today. I love you, bro.
Four of Six: Me, Ruth, Sandy and Corky, May 2013
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