My Older Brother

As a child growing up you are always looking for a role model. I was fortunate enough to have 2 to look up to. My older brothers were a big influence on my life. I will say they picked on me a lot. I think that served to toughen me up. I always knew that they had my back when push came to shove. My oldest brother that passed away in 1984 would have been 56 on the 22nd of this month. He was an intimidating guy at 260lbs. Of course I was all of about 110lbs myself so he definitely could whip me. He used that weight to his advantage a lot. I remember this time of year we would be out in the yard tossing the football playing a game of catch. He would tell me how to catch it and let me know if I was doing it wrong. We would watch the big game every Sunday. He taught me to love the sport. Maybe deep down that's why I love it so much, because it reminds me of him. I don't apologize for being a Dolphins fan but I know I root for the Cowboys first and foremost because I know he's not here to root them on. I feel like since he showed me the love for the game I owe him that. He taught me to love music. We could talk forever about it. He trained me well. He would find a random radio station and quiz me on Artist and song. Cynthia hates when I do that to her.  Sometimes we would do it as a group of sibling and make it a contest.  He would always ask if I wanted to go with him on an errand he would be running. I loved his 69 Ford Torino. He was proud of that car. I remember fondly a trip to the mall one Christmas eve.  Just hanging out with him made me feel cool. He was one of the cool kids. His friends never seemed to mind that we were tagging along. 
   I remember my first job working for my Uncle. I was maybe 11 or 12. He had already graduated high school and was working there too. It seemed like every day on our lunch break it would be to pick on Kenney time. For some reason he seemed have a lot of rotten bananas. He would tackle me and rub it in my hair.  I would be yelling get off of me fatso but that didn't make him stop.  I remember one day another co-worker wanted to mess with me and big bro was quick to step in and diffuse the situation. That someone would have to go through him to get to me. That would be a huge task and would not bode well for anyone opposing him.  I remember how much he loved to play golf and how we played many rounds together. He let me use his set of old clubs when he upgraded. I loved those clubs. One birthday he took me shopping for a present. As I got out of his car he handed me a 10 dollar bill. He said he had sold my clubs and the 10 came from the sell. He had no idea how much I loved playing with the clubs and I never told him. I remember our makeshift wrestling ring in the backyard. How me and my younger brother would tag team him. In the end it was both of us trying to ride him like a rented mule. We tried to get him down but he would throw us around like rag dolls. We never beat him.
    He was quick to let me know when I was out of line. He had tremendous respect for his parents and his elders. He was the perfect role model. He would not allow me to talk back to mom if he was within earshot. A slap to the back of the head was usually enough. A week before he passed I heard a song on the radio while we were both working for my dad. I had just graduated high school and was all of 17.  The song was "Desert Moon" by Dennis DeYoung.  I got to introduce one more song to him. We were always recommending music for the other to hear. He got to hear the song and he loved it. As we were on our last lunch break ever, there were no pranks just him cooking us some grilled cheese sandwich in a skillet in his kitchen. We talked about life. Although I don't really remember the conversation I do remember him not looking at me like a kid brother. We were co-workers and I had earned his respect.
    I still get misty eyed when I hear "Desert Moon" I think of him a lot.  I think that he would be proud of me and I know he would love Cynthia. Some days the hurt is stronger than others.  I know that all that is here is the memories we shared.  I miss him a lot and wish he was here to root on his Cowboys. Guess I will have to do it for him as long as the good Lord gives me.  Miss ya bro  go Cowboys.