I watched some men bury my brother a week ago today. I shouted to them to be careful with him. He was kind of a wuss.
My brother Scott was a stinker, figuratively yes, but also literally if you were ever around him
after a meal. He was mischievous, outspoken, and a bit of a whiner. He was also smart, kind, passionate, and side-splittingly funny.
I could write for days about Scott. The son he was. The father he was. The husband he was. The uncle he was. The lawyer he was. The friend he was.
But, more than all of those things, to me, he was my brother.
When Scott and I were little, we moved around. A lot. Every couple of years as Air Force Brats. Often, we were each other's only friends until we got to know the kids in our new neighborhoods. So we played together, which meant that in Texas, we sent our Cocker Spaniel Pepper down the slide in our backyard (against his will). In Germany, my Barbies visited the G.I. Joe compound (Scott called them his “guys”) and his Teddy Ruxpin often served as the wise advisor for my My Little Ponies. In Alabama we made New Kids on the Block videos on our back patio. Scott loved New Kids on the Block. Almost to an unnatural degree.
In South Carolina we played in our pool from sun up to sun down. We even tried to make a diving bell out of a bucket, which didn't work out so well. We also designed a makeshift Slip-n-Slide using rafts that took you directly into the pool. Again, not our best work. Lots of bloody elbows and knees that day. We taught our Cocker Spaniel Chelsea to swim in that pool. Or rather, she was forced to swim after inadvertently landing in the pool after running on the makeshift Slip-n-Slide.
I could write for days about Scott. The son he was. The father he was. The husband he was. The uncle he was. The lawyer he was. The friend he was.
But, more than all of those things, to me, he was my brother.
When Scott and I were little, we moved around. A lot. Every couple of years as Air Force Brats. Often, we were each other's only friends until we got to know the kids in our new neighborhoods. So we played together, which meant that in Texas, we sent our Cocker Spaniel Pepper down the slide in our backyard (against his will). In Germany, my Barbies visited the G.I. Joe compound (Scott called them his “guys”) and his Teddy Ruxpin often served as the wise advisor for my My Little Ponies. In Alabama we made New Kids on the Block videos on our back patio. Scott loved New Kids on the Block. Almost to an unnatural degree.
In South Carolina we played in our pool from sun up to sun down. We even tried to make a diving bell out of a bucket, which didn't work out so well. We also designed a makeshift Slip-n-Slide using rafts that took you directly into the pool. Again, not our best work. Lots of bloody elbows and knees that day. We taught our Cocker Spaniel Chelsea to swim in that pool. Or rather, she was forced to swim after inadvertently landing in the pool after running on the makeshift Slip-n-Slide.
By
the time we moved to Cincinnati, we were older, but we still did everything
together...from playing Donkey Kong Country on Super Nintendo to pass the time
on snow days to catching the last few new episodes of Saved By the Bell on
Saturday mornings.
And then there was camp. Oh how we loved Camp Campbell Gard. We were campers and later counselors there for years and years. Our years at camp left us with an arsenal of silly campfire songs, a knowledge of how to pitch tents, ride horses, build fires, and steer canoes, and a deep appreciation for bug-free beds and air conditioning. It was heaven out there.
Then, we started to grow up. I went away to college and Scott would come and visit me at the University of Dayton and charm all of the college kids with his unmatched sense of humor. He was really funny. And we were funny together- we had things that only he and I thought were funny (which was highly annoying to our parents and everyone else). Scott graduated from Fairfield and went off to Miami, and for a while we did the life thing. You know, where you get busy. And you don't talk as much. But he was still always there if I needed him. In an instant.
I became a teacher right out of school, and invited my brother to come and watch one day. I was teaching about the first Thanksgiving, and I was telling the kids about the Mayflower. So I pulled down the big map, because in those days I had a chalkboard and a pull-down map. And I said, "Boys and Girls, the pilgrims landed here, at Jamestown." And my brother was in the back of the room waving his arms, mouthing “No They Didn’t...It was Plymouth…they landed at Plymouth Rock.” And then he made fun of me relentlessly. He liked to do that. Especially because he thought he was the smartest guy ever. Which he was.
Then, we started to grow up. I went away to college and Scott would come and visit me at the University of Dayton and charm all of the college kids with his unmatched sense of humor. He was really funny. And we were funny together- we had things that only he and I thought were funny (which was highly annoying to our parents and everyone else). Scott graduated from Fairfield and went off to Miami, and for a while we did the life thing. You know, where you get busy. And you don't talk as much. But he was still always there if I needed him. In an instant.
I became a teacher right out of school, and invited my brother to come and watch one day. I was teaching about the first Thanksgiving, and I was telling the kids about the Mayflower. So I pulled down the big map, because in those days I had a chalkboard and a pull-down map. And I said, "Boys and Girls, the pilgrims landed here, at Jamestown." And my brother was in the back of the room waving his arms, mouthing “No They Didn’t...It was Plymouth…they landed at Plymouth Rock.” And then he made fun of me relentlessly. He liked to do that. Especially because he thought he was the smartest guy ever. Which he was.
And
then we grew up some more. I got married. Scott graduated from college. He went to law school. He became a lawyer. A really successful one. And Scott got married. And then we both had kids. And that’s when things really changed. That's when we started doing the life thing together. Because we raised
our kids together, here in Mason. 4 girls, all the same ages. Every Friday night at Nana and Papa’s house
for pizza, and every moment in between. It was like Walton's mountain. And he was always there, good times and bad.
You
know, my littlest Caroline was really sick when she was born. She had to have several surgeries. And one night after she came home after a surgery, she had an
emergency in the middle of the night. She had to go back to Children’s Hospital
by ambulance, and Chris had to stay with Avery. I rode in the ambulance by
myself with Cara and then I was in the ICU by myself with her and I had never
felt so alone. And then my brother came. And after they got Caroline stabilized and
she was comfortable, my brother sat and held my youngest daughter for three hours
because that’s what we did in the hospital, we never laid her down, and he made me lay down and close my eyes to
sleep for a little bit. And I don't think I would have if anyone else was there. But I did because I trusted Scott to make my sweet girl feel safe.
And I’ll never forget that.
My brother was my only sibling. At some times in my life he was my only friend. And he was a good one. A really good one. Love is tricky, you know? If you love someone a whole lot, if you trust them, if you depend on them...then you stand to lose a lot when they leave. But I don't think we can let that scare us into putting up walls and not loving each other with our whole hearts. Because that's the good stuff, and that's the way that my brother loved people. My uncle said at his funeral that his heart was just too big for this world, and oh how that was true.
When I finished babbling at my brother's memorial, I sang (rather badly) this song. It was from our camp days...we used to sing it with our campers at closing campfire on Friday nights:
Linger
I
want to linger.
A little longer.
A little longer,
Here with you.
A little longer.
A little longer,
Here with you.
It's such a perfect night.
It doesn't seem quite right.
That this should be,
My last with you.
It doesn't seem quite right.
That this should be,
My last with you.
And come September,
I will remember,
Our camping days,
and friendships true.
And
as the years go by,
I'll think of you and sigh.
This is good night
And not good bye.
I'll think of you and sigh.
This is good night
And not good bye.
I want to linger.
A little longer.
A little longer,
Here with you.
