I am a Brother

I am a brother.

I am a brother, but not in the traditional sense of the term.  Well, yes, I am a brother in the way that you would normally define a brother, but I cannot go there.  I don't really know what it is like to be a brother in the typical sense.  I had a brother and a sister, both having died long before I could establish that family relationship, that bond that comes as a result of having common parents.  I was seven years old when Richard Mark died seven days after he was born.  I was eleven years old when Kim, my baby sister died at the age of two following open heart surgery.  The surgery was at a time when pediatric open heart surgery was a fairly new and untested procedure.

My experience as a familial brother is very limited, so when I speak of being a brother I must speak of others with whom I have had a close relationship.  I am really tempted to name names, but you know the danger in doing that.  Somebody will be left out.  However, at the risk of offending any of my "brothers" I am going to name only one, simply because he was my first best friend and for all the time we spent together we may as well have been brothers.  Not only that, but he is also so representative of other "brothers" I have had throughout my life.

Richard Miller was my first best friend and we remain friends to this day.  We are talking about a friendship that began in second grade; a friendship that has lasted well over a half-century.

We spent a great deal of time at each other's homes, ate at each other's tables, and slept in each other's bedrooms and back yards.  We camped together, we hiked together, we fished together, and we even went swimming together.  We did family vacations together.  We laughed together and we laughed at each other.  We occasionally quarreled with each other and there may have been a time or two when we threw punches at each other.  There were "cold wars" and deep, meaningful discussions.  We talked about our futures, our hopes, our fears, and our aspirations.  We knew and understood each other's values, mainly because we discovered those values together.  We knew each other's feelings about God and we knew which girls the other one liked long before the girls ever knew--if they ever found out.  Richard could read my thoughts at the drop of a hat and I could read his mind a mile away.  We often began speaking the same thoughts at the same time and frequently ended each other's sentences.  We literally sweated beneath the same sun and looked up in wonder at the same moon.

I don't think we would have ever used the word "love" to describe the friendship we had, but I know that I would have been devastated had anything ever happened to him.  Richard had an older brother, Corky, but at times I think we were closer to each other than he was to his older brother, but only at times and only because of the age gap between the two of them.  And, I can say it now with no embarrassment whatsoever.  I loved and I still love Richard.

We once solidified our brotherhood as boys our age sometimes did during that era.  I suppose it came from watching too many cowboy and Indian shows on television.  I don't recall if it was pin-pricks or very sharp knives that we used to pierce our fingertips, but we made our brotherhood by becoming Indian Blood Brothers.  If we did that today we would end up being tested for HIV-AIDS or hepatitis for the rest of our lives.

As so often happens when we near the end of that adolescent stage we end up leaving the neighborhood where we were raised.  We both did.  If my memory serves me correctly, I may have been the first to merely test the waters.  Regardless, be both left the neighborhood and moved on to other neighborhoods.  Yet, Richard today remains my brother.  We visit at reunions, chat on Facebook, and even taunt each other now and then.  It feels so good.

Many other brothers have since come into my life.  I haven't gone fishing with them, but we often fished together for meaning of life.  We have not gone camping together, but I've always known that they have been in my camp.  We have not slept in each other's back yards, but we have shared dreams.  And while we have often eaten at each other's tables or together at restaurants and ice cream parlors, more often than not we have feasted on shared values and on the good word of God.  None of these men have become Indian Blood Brothers with me, but we have sweated beneath the same sun and looked up in wonder at the same moon.  I have no hesitation whatsoever in expressing my love for them.  With some I have wept and with all I have laughed.  And just as happens in adolescence, as time rolls on, somebody moves on.  Still, the bond lives on and should anything ever happen to any of my brothers I would be devastated.

I don't know if that is the way it is with familial brothers because as I said, I never really had that experience.  But, I have had had that deep meaningful friendship with a number of brothers.  If this is the way it is with familial brothers, I have Richard Miller to thank for helping me have that experience and affording me that opportunity.

I am a brother, but not in the traditional sense of the term, and I have a brother--actually, I have lots of brothers.