Writing a Milestone (sorry - no food this week)

Sometimes, even I lose the words to say what I want to say. So, this week, we're getting a fully text blog post, with no video.

A week ago, my friend Steve was in town, and he and I had a great time running around and seeing the sights and eating (a lot) and laughing (a lot) and just enjoying each other's company. It was fun to watch Steve and Christopher get to know more about each other, considering that Steve and I have probably known each other for about 23 years, but they've only spent a few days together.

Sidenote: Should that construction be "to watch he and Christopher get to know..." or "to watch him and Christopher get to know..."? Honestly, I wrote it about 5 times and I'm still not sure, which is why I'm using an actual first name - even though I almost never do that. Blame the grammarian in me.

But, on one of the nights, the two of us were driving through downtown Minneapolis and I said "That's where my old French teacher used to live." Of course, he responded with "Did she move?" And I had to say, "No, she died."

If you know the two of us, you know that that was both slightly uncomfortable and a little sad - but also kind of stupidly funny. The out-of-the-blue unintended dark humor punchline.

For some reason, that same kind of thing happened a few different times during the long weekend.

"How's your old roommate?" "She died a few years ago - but at least she's not sleeping on the couch in the middle of the day any more."

"Oh, did I ever tell you about my friend?" (Spoiler alert: by the end of the story he may have been dead. Or possibly on the lam. Honest. Being on the lam is actually one of the possible outcomes to the story.)

But Steve left on Monday, and we settled back into normal life. (Don't worry - Steve's fine. This isn't that kind of blog post.)

And yet, on Wednesday, I had to deal with a different kind of personal memory. One that makes me sad, but also makes me laugh, smile, and ponder a lot of "what if...?" situations.

As some of you may know, my brother died of acute myeloid leukemia when he was 16 - back in 1975. I was 8 at the time, and he had just finished his junior year of high school.

Christmas photo from 1974 (my apologies to my sisters, whom I cropped out for their own privacy) - Yes, that's me on the left, before glasses and facial hair -- and braces.

I have really random memories of him - many of which are connected to photos I've seen, because when you're eight years old you don't go around looking at people and things and thinking "I need to pay attention because in 43 years I'm going to want to remember this."

He was tall (and not just because I was 8 - he was somewhere around 6'4" at 16). Thin and naturally athletic - fit. And he tanned after about 5 minutes in the sun in the spring and stayed that way until October. The kind of tan that bleaches your hair and makes you kind of all one color. I still envy that - even in the age of sunscreen and pallor.

He was musical. And smart. He liked to cook. He had a thing for Olivia Newton-John. (It may be a good thing that he wasn't around for the "Physical" years.)

Oddly enough, though he was around all the time while I was growing up, I really don't know much else about him.

I remember that he had great clothes - but it was the early 70s, so the bar was low. And I don't know if I remember - or just assume - that he had a wicked sense of humor. (And, yes, I sometimes have one-sided conversations with him when things go all catty-wampus and it seems like someone with a wicked sense of humor must have had a hand in it.)

About 10 years ago, I wanted to put something together to kind of memorialize him, but couldn't figure out what to do with it. Even so, I got some very heartfelt messages from people who knew him. They all said the same kind of thing: He was one of the cool kids. The popular crowd. But he made everyone around him feel like they belonged. He was easy to be around - something that seems like it should be easy for all of us to do, but somehow isn't.

There are a lot of things that have happened in the past 43 years that I've kind of assumed he's been around for - somehow.

But he never met Christopher. And I think they would really like each other.

To this day, I still think of him as my slightly protective big brother, the one I look to for validation - even though I'm more than 3 times as old as he ever was. In my mind, he is still 16 - tall and tan with an open smile - yet somehow always older than me.

Wednesday, August 1st, was his 60th birthday.