Older brothers we've never had

I was having a tough time with life last summer. I was stressed from having, for the first time in my life, done mediocre work. An emotionally draining relationship had taken its toll on me and it was showing.

Coming into my senior year, I was supposed to be somewhat relaxed. As it was my last year as a CL, I was supposed to leading our staff. But as it was, I was shit. I had no stamina for drawn out discussions. I had no patience for difficult people. And worse of all, I had begun to get tunnel vision when being able to see outside the box had always been my greatest asset.

We all need a big brother. No matter how great a relationship may be with your parents, no matter how close you are with an older sister; there is something about a relationship with an older brother that simply can't be synthesized.

A big brother is like a father whose authority is derived completely from respect. It depends not at all upon the societal constructs that so strengthen the idea that we should trust our parents; "father knows best". A good older brother combines the wisdom of a more experienced man with the familiarity of a peer and the trust that can only be shared between family members.

I've always needed a big brother, but it just so happened that I was the oldest male to spring forth from Gregg and Milly's loins. I'll give you a minute to catch your breath.


As a result, I've been collecting older brother figures my entire life. My first was my cousin, Nick Short. I'll never forget the time when I was six...

"quit hitting yourself!" my cousin, Zach, would say as he slugged me in the jaw with my own fist as he lay atop me, straddling any escape I might make.

"Zach, that hurts!" I'd say through an already swelling lip.

"That's the point, 'Neeeeeeeeilly'" he'd sneer as he abandoned my fists for his own.

"Zach!!!", my cousin, Nick would roar as he rounded the corner to discover me in my predicament.

Instantly, Zach would roll over and start to sob and scream: "Get off me, Neil!" as if I were the one beating him up. The next couple moments almost always went the same as Nick would do something crude and gross to Zach as a penance for winning a fight against me. Often it would be a wedgie, a killer Indian burn, or my personal favorite: a lugey to the mouth.

Nick was, and in many ways still is, an older brother to me. But as we grew older I was forced to find other surrogate elder siblings. There was Joe & Steve in High School and then Spencer when I went to college. After Spencer there came Andrew and Chad.

Perhaps more than any other older-brother figures I've ever had, Chad and Andrew changed and affected me. I'll spare you the exact details, but it was they who helped me to see my tunnel vision. It was Chad and Andrew who took my hand and used it to slap myself in the face so that I would open my eyes to see the error of my ways. They didn't lead me out of my dark place, they dragged me kicking and screaming. They helped me to know that I was something more than a broken heart. They made me see that I was bigger than so much trash that one could cast aside.

As I was sitting across the table from Myles, and listing intently to whatever Zen-like wisdom Myles sometimes likes to dole out, I couldn't help but say a silent prayer to the Lord who has always blessed me with the older brothers I never had.