This is a little something I love (11 snippets of my brother on his 36th birthday).

My brother Jonny, 11 years my junior, turns a big age today.

He’ll wallop it. He’ll wallop it, he’ll face it and attack; run it down, use it up, go hard and bury so many memories in this year that someday we’ll be gasping to remember a fraction.

What is important, to me, about chronicling, documenting, remembering,

is not remembering, or trying to remember, everything. Or even most of something. It’s finding just the right amount to grab hold of and hold dear; something that lets you enjoy and immerse in the present, but also to tuck something away for savoring.

These are some savorings from the past; a past rich with experiences with this fellow. My medium brother, and one of my heroes.

Eleven slivers of Jonny

We (can better) face down the demons with a monster at our side.

What is happening?

Is he backing toward his younger brother? Is he walking away? What is he doing?

The look of terror on the boy’s face, the 11-year old’s face, is unquestionable.

What does Jonny do? He knows, he knows the proper pressure to put on. We live in an age where you don’t push, you don’t nudge, you don’t demand performance or exceptionalism.

But this age, this age is an age for mortals, not for Adonises and half-beasts. Not for Jonny.

And today, on this day, on this day past, a boy jumped. A boy became a man on this summer he leaped, and he leaped because a monster-man stood by with his arms crossed and let him know:

You can do this. And you will.

And he did.

August 2004

Ides of (one for the ages).

It was on Spring Break. We were on holiday. A sports tournament was on. The Madness of March, I believe; a series of basketball matches between universities in which a victor will rise to the apex of that year’s history while the other 63 sink to the compost heap of memories. This, if my memory recalls, was one of the final matches. It was a tight game. “Tight” means “close.” It was coming down to the wire. This means it was almost over.

I chose this time to use the remote I had secretly absconded with and change the channel. I did this several times before the crowd pictured here began catching on. I found it very humorous, but this was a minority position amongst the crowd gathered on the bed. Eventually they figured out the gig, and Jonny was one of those most perturbed by my actions. History may have proven him correct. It was perhaps less humorous than I found it to be at the time. In spite of this, he did not abandon me, and eventually, he made enough peace with this incident that we have a workable relationship again. So all’s well. At least until the next Madness.

March 2005

At some moment in the midst of obliteration we salvage our dignity.

We played tennis. On my court. But when we were done it was not my court.

It was now his court.

Passing along torches can get you burnt. But it’s also less of a burden. And sometimes when you pass along a torch it’s because someone has surpassed you and deserves to be crowned king. In making this statement I heavily imply that I was a king of the (tennis) court. That is the way I choose to remember: I once was king, but then I stepped aside gracefully and salvaged dignity on the sidelines and we sat in solidarity and considered activities where I might purchase some extra dignity at low cost.

Point is, go hard, lose well, write the story you want after the fact.

And respect worthy adversaries, regardless of outcome or age.

July 2005

The happiest time.

Just like video is simply a series of rapidly-displayed static photographs that plays on the failure of our body’s ability to perceive as individual images,

long-term healthy relationships are maybe, at core, often simply a series of rapid, small, tiny-in-the-moment interchanges and happenings that add up to something beautiful; images lay the groundwork for video, which in turn, composed, cropped, curated, and edited well, - and with a good soundtrack - can turn into masterful cinema;

perhaps enough of these small experiences, these small conversations, these small affections, repeated enough times, done frequently, are the play blocks for a relationship-filled life not just lived well, but shared beautifully.

So yeah, you might call this a single frame of an epic film.

December 2006

Nap.

In another life, I might have gone into the Coast Guard, or producing rap, or developmental cognitive psychology. What does this have to do with anything?

Two things. First, I enjoy talking about relationships and the reasons people do what they do; the inner workings of humans and their connections to others, with this fellow. Strictly speaking, with both of these fellows. I appreciate his commitment to learning, to growth, and to trying to better understand people’s relationships with each other. I like talking about brain-mind-heart-relational-developmental stuff.

Second, I am fascinated, intrigued, and enchanted by the ways that Person B’s relationship with Person C affects Person B’s relationship with Person A.

I appreciate, so much, Jonny’s interest in developing relationships both collectively and individually; I love to see the dynamics he has with other siblings and friends, I love to see the care and respect and thoughtful appreciation he brings to each…

…and I love how he does so in a manner that is not threatening. In other words, he’s Person B. The healthiest people make the people around them develop healthier relationships with others, not just themselves.

It is a significant trait and one I value in him immensely.

I’ve never told him this, but I actually think there may be a point down the road where we do some music together. I am quietly giddy about the prospect. My alternate life as a rap producer may not be an alternate; it may be in this life down the road.

Also, the person Jonny’s napping with is our IRL brother Jeremy, who actually is a music producer, amongst other hyphenates.

November 2007

Rip Van Wee.

You might look at this image, and think that all he does is nap. I don’t know what to say. Maybe there’s truth to that. I don’t know.

Of course I know. Smart people learn to know themselves, to know what you need, what your body needs, like power naps.

What you are seeing here is a Power Power Napper in progress. Here’s the thing: he’s sleeping, with his 13-month old niece on his lap, and she’s playing, and he was playing with her, and if she fell, it’s not like there’s 6-inch lag screws lying around on the living room floor from our dad’s last remodel project (or hanging a picture frame). At least, the chances that if she fell, that she would land on one in a way that would cause serious injury is slight. Here’s the important thing:

She’s not going to fall.

Because she’s with him.

From the time she came into being, I have trusted him with our kids. It is a well-placed trust. It doesn’t mean that nothing bad will ever happen when they’re with him. We accept risk by living and growing and trusting others.

But it means that he will always, and has always, looked out for them. From the subatomic particles and chromosomes and twisty genetic strands that define him as him, I have known, and know that he is a Protector; a Protector not only of Bodies but of Emotions, of Feelings, of Souls.

I have a lot more to say on that. But later. It is not an abstract statement I make. It is concrete to the bone and beyond.

There are many ways to look out for a fellow human. That is what this is about, the physical but also beyond the physical.

If she started to fall, he would catch her.

If she did fall, he would comfort her.

My trust is well-placed.

August 2008

Arms race.

These arms, the Adonis arms, the arms rippling bulging in Golden Ratio proportion, arms used by strong men,

actual strong men, the real strong men,

the men who use their strength to open and embrace, comfort and protect, gently, kindly, open them to both welcome and release.

Those are the arms of strength / these are the arms of strength.

August 2009

Sleep the clock around.

One of them is sleeping. The other is fake-sleeping. You might be correct, or you might not.

You might think this image is cute. It is. But for me, the draw is not in the singularity, it’s in the commonness. It’s a picture etched amongst my dozens of neurons many times; it’s a familiar scene, one that makes me feel like I stumbled on a film set where I’m trying to write my own interpretation of a Chekhov story while simultaneously trying to distance myself from and impress Wes Anderson with my set design aesthetic. I don’t know. There’s a lot going on but then I look and there really isn’t, so I get to focus on the energy being shared between two hands interlocked, stretched across distance and grungy hotel textiles. What dreams may enter this hallow shared space.

August 2009

They ran and ran, and ran some more.

Hood to Coast. Brother-Sister. Almost 200 miles of running. They did, along with their team of runners and…

…drivers. I was in one of these categories, the category best befitting my fitness at the time. As a team, I believe we finished. We finished. Did we win? I do not recall the specifics. But I know we finished, some of us (pictured) on two legs and some of us (not pictured) on four wheels in a driver’s seat chauffeuring athletes through the night.

All through the night we ran, or drove, and it was an experience and a memory, one that left me proud of these two. It is a significant thing to commit to practicing, to rehearsing, to training for something that tests you and makes you find what you’re capable of, and these two, these two have pushed themselves and I feel proud, proud by association, to be part of their commitment, discipline, and team they assembled to do so something hard.

Something hard, something fun.

August 2012

Grand Auto Testosterone.

Sometimes you leap into the thick. Sometimes you step back and marvel.

Or at least marvel with a smile and a camera.

You may not be able to pick the family you come from. If you got a good one, well…good and marvel at your luck and the grace shone upon you.

When you’re younger, you’re dependent on older people to bring you together with people you want to be with. As you get older, you become the person that helps to bring people together.

I admire the way Jonny has lived his life being a catalyst, being an enabler, for bringing people together.

It is these moments and minutes strung together, over time, that forge lasting relationships and keep you healthy.

Thank you.

December 2012