RRR: My Other Brothers

Reduce, Reuse, Recycle.
This was originally published on 6 February 2007.

I went to a Halloween party this weekend at the house of some old friends. I don’t see them very often these days, but there is something very comforting in having people that we have known for a long time, who share our stories. This is one of the stories we share. And I’m quite sure that R___ was with us again this weekend. Imagine a ghost being the life of the party. Okay, that may be a bit of a stretch but he did bring us a ton of laughter. Again.

I am not what one would call a family man. But I am a member of the family of man — or the human family if the generic form of “man” offends you. I am a son and a brother and an uncle. We have the families we are born into. And we have families that we draw around us — not of blood but of choice, kindred spirits becoming kin of sorts.

Not long after I moved to Central Florida I met M___ and H___ and R___. I’m a tall, white guy of mostly Dutch and German descent. M___ is shorter and rounder and mostly Scottish. H___ is small-framed and swarthy; both his parents are from Bangladesh. R___ had red hair and beard and was built like the rugby player he was. The four of us could not look less alike if we had planned it. For a couple years we hung out together a lot.

Here’s a quick story about R___. Where he worked, when you logged in to the computer network messages from coworkers would automatically be sent to your screen. So he wrote a message that looked just like the screen you got when the network was down….

When R___ was diagnosed with brain tumors, M___, H___, and I went to see him in the hospital. At the nurse’s station we were told that only family was allowed to see him. [Is it just me, or does it not make sense to call an area of the hospital ICU when, in fact, I'm not allowed to see you there?] “We’re his brothers,” we said. By coincidence, his mother was there at the time and after a little conferring behind the desk, we were welcomed by “Mom” and we got to see our brother. He was in pretty good spirits considering they had shaved the side of his head, drilled holes into it, and cut out part of his brain.

R___ was a member of Mensa. We thought it would be really funny to send him a letter on Mensa letterhead informing him that he would need to retest since he no longer had the brain he had originally qualified with. I don’t think we ever actually sent the letter, but we did tell R___ about it and he thought it was a hilarious idea.

R___ passed away several months later. And over the years M___ and H___ and I have drifted in and out of contact with each other. But we always laugh when we are together. And at odd moments I hear R___’s laughter too. My kindred spirit. My other brother.