When I say that I was a difficult boy, people laugh softly and think about how I would bring mirrors with me when I was made to stand in the corner so I could still watch TV. Or how I eventually graduated to handstands and acrobatics in the corner until Mom and Chuck were too amused to stay mad. Or how I would miss the school bus on accident/purpose. They think, come on, you were a cute funny kid who was pretty wacky with your antics. What they don't get is how these antics were a constant barrage on my family, I mean this kind of thing happened almost every single day, sometimes several times a day... I would do something bad every. single. day. I was wild, that kind of out of the box, try everything because I can, no body is going to tell me what to do or how to be kind of wild.
I bit, I kicked (my teacher in the face), I screamed non-stop for hours. I got booted out of multiple preschools and day care's, multiple as in more than twenty. I went to eight different schools between first and eighth grade (and no, we weren't in the military). Many times Mom would come to pick me up because of the trouble I was causing that day and the teacher would lean over to her and say "please don't bring him back here", and then shut the door. A difficult boy. And while my mom was always able to talk me down and have me regain my composure, there was only one person I looked to as my guardian and protector.
And boy, did he look out for me... The adventures he and I went on are both numerous and legendary, and some may even be documented in police files. And all the while I was wild and out of control, and he was responsible. I never really put it together before today... But my brother spent his entire childhood looking out for me and trying so desperately to keep me out of the trouble I was so bound and determined to get into. I made his childhood difficult.
As we grew up we were two peas in a pod. You couldn't separate us with a crowbar, where ever I was, Josh was. In my memory I was always following Josh. He was older and knew more, and would try things, and go on adventures at the drop of a hat. But in truth it was a lot of Josh following me and watching out for me and telling me "no, dont do that". He was always in charge when it came to me. If he said jump, well... I would giggle, but I would also jump. However, I would do it my way and wheel out the trampoline and spend 5 minutes positioning it, then repositioning it, then finally getting on and giving him an expectant look, like I was ready now and now he could tell me to jump. Like I said, I was difficult and I would only do things my way.
My Mom's favorite example of my difficultness is when it was my turn to clean the dishes. I would fuss for an hour, hem and haw, say "I don't wanna" and such. Loudly disagreeing so no one could hear what they were saying on TV. Then I would go to the kitchen with a stomp and a huff and run a little water and stand in the doorway still watching TV til mom turned around and made me go back in. Then I would clean the easy things, like the cups, and rinse off the plates. My favorite thing to do was to "leave something soaking" because then it would magically get done before the chore was mine again. I was also known to throw silverware that I deemed to difficult to clean into the garbage can and declare "dishes are done!" and run back to my seat in front of the tv.
Josh would clean the dishes I left soaking... and often times he would check the trash and pull out what I had thrown there just to keep the peace for the night and not have Mom and Chuck get mad and punish me. I dont think he ever knew about the broiler on the bottom of the oven though, and it's a damn good thing Mom never used it either... Can plates and silverware get too hot?
Through all my shenanigans and trouble, and trust me when I say I was truly out of control, Josh tried everything he could do to help me and guide me and look out for me. He stood up to anyone who ever said a word against me, he valued my life and safety over everything, even his own. Hell, he even got a broken nose fighting a guy that pushed me. He gave up a happy free childhood to be my constant watcher and protector, and stood by helpless and watched while I self destructed at the age of eleven. I've always felt that he never quite got over that helpless angry feeling, and I've always felt a shameful guilt that by being the boy that I was, as difficult as I was. That he, the good kid, the one that was responsible, the one that did the extremely hard job of being my guardian while still doing everything he was supposed to do, got neglected.
My problems overshadowed his accomplishments. I was always the one who was getting the long conversations from our parents, and he eventually learned to live without them. Mom and Chuck who both worked full time differing schedules spent much of their parenting time trying to correct my behavior, or taking me to therapists or punishing me that there could have been little time left for Josh and the things he wanted from them. He was neglected for being the good son, and for that I will forever be truly sorry. I cant undo it, I can only recognize my part in it and say I'm sorry.
We grew apart after the age of eleven, he discovered baseball and started doing more things that I wasn't interested in. And instead of going to play with him I opted to stay in my room and play with all of our toys. And the distance between us was born.
He continued to watch out for me, and fight people who picked on me, but it was always from a distance. I heard about it later from someone... he never told me about those fights in junior high, when I would bring candy for everyone to school to try and win friends. He would hear those same kids who took my candy talk about me badly in front of him and he would react, usually ending up in the office with bloody knuckles or a bloody nose.
By high school we had pretty much perfected the art of avoiding each other. Freshmen year I was invisible in a freshman class of 1200 students. I was no one. Between freshmen and sophomore year Mom and Chuck finally got married and I decided to take Chucks last name. Partly because I thought it sounded better and partly because I didn't want people to know Josh and I were brothers. I felt abandoned by him. After the breakdown at eleven I never understood why he stopped playing with me and only wanted to play baseball, and I held it against him all through high school.
He was inside with the cool kids, he was popular and good looking and got the leads in all the plays from the very first audition, while I was always relegated to the background or comic relief. I resented him. I considered him an interloper in my chosen craft. Someone who got signed up for drama by accident and decided to stick with it for the easy A. And I resented him because he was so talented at it, and so much better at it than I was. I felt like Salieri to his Mozart, just trying to do the best I could and here comes this new guy and he just blows everyone away. It wasn't fair, I had finally found my passion and stabilizer and he was better at it than I was. Just like he was better at me than everything. And the distance between us grew.
Before high school was out he had moved out of the house and into his own apartment near school. The first time I called him in his new place he said the words that have overshadowed our relationship ever since; "how did you get my number?" He went on with his life and I rarely if ever heard directly from him. I got updates through Mom and a very very rare family dinner happened on the spur of the moment, but by the age of eighteen Josh was gone to me. And the distance grew wider than ever before.
I joined the navy a few years after that in 97 and by that point Josh and I were only talking once or twice a year, usually on holidays. Though something changed in him when I left for boot camp, I think it was the realization that I was finally, for maybe the first time in my life, acting like an adult and doing the responsible thing. He even sent me a few letters in boot camp that I still read from time to time. One of my favorite memories with him happened that December. I was still living in Chicago going to Corpsman A school in the Navy and Josh called me up out of the blue and told me that he was going to Louisville, KY for the holidays but that he had a three hour layover at Chicago's O'hare Airport and he asked me if I wanted to meet for dinner at the airport. I don't remember what we talked about, but I remember meeting my brother for the first time as an adult, and thinking, yeah, you turned out alright, I think we're gonna be alright.
After Chicago I got stationed on a boat in San Diego, just thirty or so miles from Josh's apartment. Of course I didn't get to visit in the first two weeks I was there because I was so busy getting situatied and indoctrinated on the ship, and then we left for a six month deployment. When I got back, Josh and Mel were packing up and moving to Kentucky. And on Christmas day 1998, we had what would be our last Christmas together for ten years.
In the fifteen years that he's been in Louisville I've only seen my brother four times. Once for our high school reunion in 2003, once in 2006 when I was in Chicago for the gay games and took a bus to Louisville for a couple days just to say hi (I mean, I'd gone most of the way across the country already, what was a few hundred more miles). Christmas of 2008 which remains my most cherished Christmas memory. The lot of us, sitting around drinking and giggling non-stop for hours. Our family had come through in the end and we were all together and happy. And lastly in 2010 when he came out to stay with our parents for a month and I busted my ass to get down there and see him before he went back.
I still rarely talk to Josh, he's busy with his own life building a business and constantly following his dream. And for the record, I no longer think of him as an interloper in my craft, he has been constantly working on a play, movie, short film or teaching for the last twenty five years with barely a breath in between. He is a master of his craft. All I ever needed to believe in his talent was to see him on a stage, he's magnificent. He is still far greater than I have ever been and still the ideal role model that I follow.
I think about our childhood often and where I would have ended up if not for such a protective guardian. I would have ended up in prison, or dead the way I was going. But I'm not. I'm a good and decent man, and I hope that he knows how much he had to do with that. I hope he knows how much I have always looked up to him and tried to be like him, because he was always the good one, the best one really. He was and will always be the rock that I crash against and depend on. He is the good son and the best brother because he saved my life by giving up his childhood to watch over me. I'll never be able to pay you back for that sacrifice, Josh, but I'll spend the rest of my life trying.
I love you and Happy 40th birthday my dearest brother, Josh.
