“I never saw a wild thing sorry
for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough
without ever having felt sorry for itself.” D.H. Lawrence.
without ever having felt sorry for itself.” D.H. Lawrence.
When I entered this world as a baby in 1965, we lived on
a farm that spread across two hills, had an apple orchid, a creek, chicken
coops, duck pond, canning house, two barns and was divided by a highway. The
farm (as we all call it) was in upstate New York in a little town called
Weedsport. Weedsport is an early 19th century village along the Erie Canal. The
two-story farm house was built around 1812. It had a front porch, wood burning
stove, many rooms with large floor to ceiling windows common of that era. My
parents worked on that house restoring it from the moment we moved there in
1965.
It can be said that much of one’s personality is
developed by the time one reaches first grade. I lived those formative years
trailing behind my siblings who lived out many adventures on that farm. While
my brother Bobby (twelve years my senior) was a special needs child as we would
call him today, I had no idea he was different, he was fun, adventurous, had
little fear of anything or worry as I can remember, he laughed all the time,
even to his detriment, he never stopped laughing. Things he said and did were consistently
socially inappropriate, and embarrassing, yet we all loved him.
Bobby did not worry about the silly things of life like a
career, although he was really disappointed when he was discharged from the
Navy in 1974 because of his health, he never felt sorry for himself or his situation
as far as I can remember. Money to him was just something you needed to buy
root beer and peanut butter. If you had root beer and peanut butter, perhaps
some conservation magazines and a decent bicycle, you were a complete success.
I have read the hundreds of letters he has sent over the
years as visiting him was a challenge. Forget talking to him by phone, I talked
to him twice since 2000. I can say the idea of worry, especially about trivial
matters just did not enter his mind. He could care less about fashion, trends,
or the concept of keeping up with anyone. I do not remember him once watching a
sporting event on television although he loved nature shows and I remember him
being glued to the television during the Vietnam War.
He loved sailing in the Gulf when he lived in Florida in
the later 1970’s. My brother introduced me to sailing as a child and it has
stuck with me ever since. The freedom from sailing is why he loved it, no
rules, no boundaries, no one telling you where to go or how to do it. I believe
he loved it for the same reason I do, there is no hypocrisy when holding the
tiller handle and trimming the sails, the consistency of how you sail a boat is
exactly how it has always been since the dawn of time.
People ask who my brother was? Bobby was the “wild thing”
D.H. Lawrence wrote about, he knew who he was, he was a free bird, in many ways
he was child-like, he knew where he belonged, (in the wilderness of New York),
and he never felt home in Florida for various reasons. His mind was amazing, he
could remember every tree, bird, animal, fact, places dates and address of
every place he ever lived. His early childhood years were spent in Schenectady,
so it is no wonder he returned there in 1978 to never ever set foot in Florida
again. I believe the good ole’ boy mindset of the south was about as far from
his personality as one could imagine. I have never met anyone like him, I
cannot think of one person in my life that was like him, except him, perhaps
God threw away the mold after making him.
One thing about my brother, I never once felt unloved by
him, he may have picked on me as a child, I am sure I had more pink bellies
then most kids, however, I know he loved me and I know we share a lot of the
same great memories, who could ask for more. I am sure God didn’t give him a
mansion as the old Pentecostal preachers promised, for Bobby He made an exception, He
gave him a forest and a tent next to a stream, so he would feel at home.
“The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing. ‘He
makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul.’” (Psalm 23:1-3)
he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul.’” (Psalm 23:1-3)
