He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother

I still don't know why my parents waited so long to have another child.

My "little" brother, Dorian, is somewhere in Buffalo right now listening to my voicemail message advising him not to drink and drive tonight. He'll be out with his friends celebrating his birthday. I think he's 23 today.

Just yesterday, he was chasing me around the backyard, wanting to hang around with me. Well, it seems like just yesterday. I remember wanting to pick him up from his little carrier when he was just a baby. He was a little guy back then. Now he's bigger and taller than me. Little brother, my ass.

I remember when he was little kid, still in his crib, he'd stand, hold himself up by the gate and look down. He was big enough to see over the top. Somehow, he discovered that if he hoisted himself right, he could flip over the rails and reach the ground. Of course, that meant that when he'd flip, he'd come crashing down on his backside with a tremendous THUMP! I came running into the room and there he was, on his back, giggling and laughing. I got scared and put him back, not knowing what happened. As I left, I hear, THUMP! So I run back and there he is laughing again. After putting him back the second time, I turned the corner and snuck a peek. He stood up and hoisted himself over, doing a complete flip on the way down and then THUMP! Back to the giggling. In retrospect, that might explain a lot about the man I'd come to call, 'Dee.'



He was a good kid. Very bright and personable. He inherited my father's volatile sensibility which always put him head to head with Dad. When he was about 10 or so, we'd tell him that Dad was on his way home and he' high tail it out to the backyard to hide. They still lock horns from time to time. But he doesn't run anymore.

Between school and my parents, I tried to have as much of a positive effect on him as I could. We'd get on each other's nerves from time to time. But for the most part, we were close. He always hung around me and my friends, trying to throw his two cents worth into anything he could. I offered him all the best music I could find and we always went to watch movies together. I ripped the manager of a Dollar Theatre a new asshole for not allowing him to watch a rated R movie with me. It was a shitty, Jean-Claude Van Damme movie too. "Timecop."

When I was still at home, we didn't have separate rooms. Not for a long time. We had this bed that had another bed underneath it. It had a handle and you'd simply pull it out. We'd stay up talking about games, movies, girls and God knows what else.

He and my dog, Jordan, grew up together. There's a photo that, if I ever find, I'll post. He's kneeling down and she's at his side. He must have been about 8 or 9. For 14 years, they played in the spacious backyard at my folks house. He loved her just as much as I did. Maybe more. It was a heartbreaking day when we had to cut a hole in the living room floor to get to her lifeless body. We both cried all day long, it seemed.

The day he told my folks he was going to Buffalo with his girlfriend, my parents nearly lost their minds. Not because they were gonna miss him, but because they thought he was making a mistake. There was, of course, no talking him out of it. He and Susan seemed solid. In the back of my mind, I was hoping that it would last. He's not with her anymore, but he's still in Buffalo. He's had his share of fuck-ups, but who hasn't. Still, he's managed to make close friends, he's a volunteer firefighter and he's happy and healthy. My parents are very proud of all he's accomplished out there.

What makes me particularly proud is that all the things about literature and film and music that I taught him stuck with him. Not to mention the fact that he's a great guy. One of the finest men I know and I'll ever know. He doesn't visit as often as I'd like, but I have yet to visit him in the nearly 5 years that he's been in Buffalo. He was the best man at my wedding. That was something. Damn near had me in tears with his toast. I think about it, I get teary eyed.

For years I called him "kid." After a while, I came to realize that he wasn't a kid. He'd begun to sprout hair on his face, had a girlfriend in tow and was sneaking beers here and there. And now, he is undeniably a man. A great man.

So, hoist a drink up for Dorian. The best brother a guy could ever have.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!