There's a Little Bit of You in Me

I was flipping around tonite because SNL was unbelievably unwatchable (shocker!) and landed for a few minutes on My Left Foot which, presumably because it wasn't recommended on an episode of Saved by the Bell, I've never seen before. It was about a quarter of the way through, so I figured I'd wait for another time when I could see it from the beginning. But before I could click away, I noticed that the invalid's brothers (of which there were about 43) took him everywhere they went, hauling him along in a wheelbarrow/chariot type thing (insert Mamalizza "no bjorn?" joke here). Not only did they bring him along, but he was the goalie in their soccer (football, as Gordon would say) games and, unbelievably, placed in the circle during Spin the Bottle. Which automatically put him ahead of me in the "junior-high gettin some tail" game. I was floored by this, the brothers' patience and generosity with their time and space. Dragging their broken brother around wherever they went.

Watching this unfold made me think of a short story I read in 10th grade called "The Scarlet Ibis." Believe me, at my age I'm surprised I remember the 10th grade, much less a short story from English class. Anyways, in the story there's a 12ish year-old kid who has a little brother who has some birth defect - I can't recall exactly what, but the little brother couldn't really do anything to exert himself. Some sort of heart condition. Meanwhile, the mother insisted he take his little brother along with him whenever he went out to play with his friends, which the older brother resented greatly; even to the point of wishing the little brother had died as an infant like the doctors had predicted. Having to drag his little brother along slowed him down, wore on him mentally and, even worse I would imagine, embarrassed him in front of his friends.

One day they were walking home through the woods when a storm broke out. With rain streaming down, the older brother started running, to which the little brother desperately tried to keep up. Obviously within seconds he was far behind, and he started calling out for his older brother to slow down, he couldn't keep up. Hearing this the older brother gnashed his teeth, thought about all the moments he had wasted having to drag his little brother along, and sprinted through the woods even faster. With each step, his little brother's shouts became dimmer and dimmer until he was unburdened by such cries, sprinting freely through the trees.

After a while, guilt and brotherly duty caught up to him. He stopped, turned around and for the first time noticed he couldn't hear any more yelling. Disgusted with his brother's weakness he started the walk back, cursing his fate all the while. If only it weren't for little bro he could do this, he could do that, he could invent Google etc etc etc. But he knew that if he showed up at home alone his mother would go crazy on him, so he went to collect his little brother. Long story slightly less long, he came upon his little brother, who had desperately tried to run and catch up but had fallen down and was now gasping for air and bleeding out of his mouth. He died in his brother's arms, right there in the woods. He was weak. But all he wanted to do was keep up with his big brother.

My brother graduated high school one year ahead of me. Being so close in age, we had grown up pretty much in each other's hip pocket - bunk bed, shared clothes, etc etc. Until the day he left for college, we had prolly never spent more than a few hours apart. I'm not saying we sat around and had heart to heart talks and gay shit, but we had kind of blended into each other. Whenever a friend called one of us to come out, we assumed the both of us was inferred and we'd both go. At no moment did it even occur to us "does this mean the both of us, or just me/you?" Hell, even at home we were referred to as "the boys", not "Brothahtime! and Xmastime." The closed captioning to our mother chasing us with the belt for a whupping would've been "Brothahtime!, I mean, Xmastime, whichever one you are get over here now!!!" Oh, we hated each other's guts and beat the shit out of each other every day, but we were connected in a way I can barely even fathom this many years later.

But that all changed the minute he graduated. He was going to college in the fall, and next thing I know he was going into town to hang out without me. Oh, I had plenty of friends and, since this was 70 years ago, a girlfriend; but I can still remember him talking into the phone "yeah, I'm leaving now, see you there" and then getting the brush-off when I'd ask where we were going. What the fuck? That summer he started hanging out with an older, different set (ed. note - it wasn't a "bad" element; in fact it was mostly older guys who were already at UVa that were taking him under his wing.) I'd try to keep up with him, like "hey, so where we headin tonite?" and he'd blow me off, hopping into his Chevette to go into town to some party that, I realized, he just didn't want me tagging along to. Looking back of course I understand it, but at the time I was hurt, and pissed off. I guess even though I have a younger brother and sister, I will always be a younger brother. Just how it is. At that time my mind flashed back to "The Scarlet Ibis" - I felt like I was running and running and trying to keep up with an older brother that just wanted to shed me like skin. I was confused, I was lost; I was, in my mind, cut in half. That summer, although I was reveling in my girlfriend and friends and the freedom of driving, was definitely the oddest I had ever experienced. Then my brother left for college. I can still remember, it was drizzling outside. Looking out of our living room window as my parents drove him away to college, I can still see the yellow car's taillights light up as it slowed to turn at the fork in the road at Sunnyside grocery before disappearing and yes, tears quickly burned in my eyes. I had never known life without him, not for one day, what the hell was I gonna do now?

Of course I had the greatest year of my life. I ruled the school my senior year, I was in love, I had a blast with my friends. Hell, we even brought a NND Championship back to the baseball field (sorry Brothahtime!) It was pretty much 9 months of laughing my head off. And then I went to college, had a great time blah blah blah. I learned who I was, not just who we were.

Today we live 300 miles apart and are pretty much complete opposites, but that's to be expected in retrospect. We're still a close family, considering how far apart we are. Paddy Mac being my accountant of course gives us an excuse to see each other ;)

I can still feel what it was like to be that little brother, chasing and yelling and feeling left behind. I guess that's what a little brother is meant to be, is left behind. Thankfully, unlike the little brothers in "The Scarlet Ibis" or My Left Foot, I'm not broken. Unlike them I can stand up and be strong, I have my own life. I am my own man. But. There will always be a part of me chasing my brother, I will always be that little kid struggling in the rain. Bleeding out of my mouth. The thing is that as much as I keep running, I hope I never catch him. That way, he'll always fucking be my big brother. The bastard :)

"All I ever wanted to do was be as good as you." - George Brett to his brothers in his HOF speech.