Oh Brother, Where Art Thou?

On Tuesday morning, December 17, 2019 my oldest brother, David, passed away.

David lived on the east coast in New Hampshire near Lake Winnipesaukee over 3000 miles from the rest of his family in California. He moved out there in 2000 as that location was the least populated that he could find. David hated congestion. He was a true country boy. The distance led to the unfortunate lapse in communication that can happen. The last time I saw him was when we on the east coast and my family ran up to New Hampshire to see him and his then wife Lisa in 2006.

I was very close to my oldest brother for all my life even though we were far apart. I had a deep love for him as he did for me. I am finding out through all the loving comments of not only the love of his life Shirley, but of all the close friends he had in New Hampshire, that Dave remained the kind, generous, loving, funny and super talented brother I have always known him to be.

I would like to add to those glowing memories with what I have had the privilege to experience with him in my life.

David was born on November 25, 1953, two and a half years before I was born. We have one brother in the middle, Daniel, who was born 11 months and 14 days after Dave. Yes, our father apparently was not a patient man because two months after Dave was born our mother was pregnant with #2. I think the reason I was 18 months after Danny was that mother learned how to hold an impatient man at bay with a gun.

My first memory of Dave was when I was 4 years old and he convinced his two younger brothers that it would be amazing if we painted the house with the bright pink paint he found in the unguarded garage. Imagine our father’s joy and gratitude when he came home from work to discover that the lower three feet of his home was the same color as that tacky Flamenco lawn ornament across the street that Mr. Newman put out. I still remember that spanking. (Note to all those that feel that corporal punishment is child abuse: All three of us boys were spanked as needed during our youth. None of us ever ended up in prison, turned into Ted Bundy types, molested any farm animals or went clubbing with baby seals.)

Throughout the early years the three Young boys were led by their oldest brother David. We were known as the three little demons. It was during those formative years I discovered that while Dave had fantastic ideas, he really didn’t think things through very well. I was the victim of this shortcoming several times as my oldest brother always elected me his personal test dummy. Recently my doctors have detected that I have some brain damage possibly from something earlier in my youth. It could be due to being the test pilot of many a “let’s see if we can get Derek to jump his Schwinn bike across this ravine”, “let’s see how fast we can get Derek to go if we whip him off a chain of 3 kids at the skating rink” or the world famous “what happens if 15 neighborhood kids go down a steep snowy hill linked together on inner-tubes with Derek on the front trying to steer with a Red Racer Sled.” I was always amazed when my oldest brother would give me the privilege to take the lead in these amazing adventures. My neurologist thinks he has found the reason for my brain damage.

When David was seven, he saw the Superman show on TV for the first time. Later that afternoon he jumped off the roof of our home with a sheet tied around his neck. He was very impressionable. His arm, however, was not but healed quickly.

I remember the day our dad brought home three identical motorized minibikes. We had just completed assembling the first one and Dave was off like a flash atop this five horsepower, two wheeled mode of destruction. By the time we had the second one assembled with my brother Danny proudly astride, Dave came in at full speed straight into a short cement wall and exploded into several pieces. We rushed over to him as he got up and discovered that while Dave was thankfully unharmed, the minibike, however, was not. It had taken all the force of the impact converting it into a very bent and much more mini minibike.

For some reason, mechanical things didn’t last long in David’s care.

Fast forward several years and dad had just brought home a used Chevy Covair two-seater sports car to give to Dave as a surprise. That one lasted for about 3 months until the day Dave was out driving around with one of his friends and spied an elevated train crossing ahead. I think this was during the period of Dave’s life when he discovered his lifelong affection for “Wacky Tobacco” as it was called back then. Somewhere in the foggy recesses of his brain the thought occurred to him that it would be fun to take that elevated train crossing at high speed and maybe get a little air at the top. Unfortunately, that foggy part of his brain did not realize that the road went back down on the other side of the crossing. As they were flying about three feet in the air Dave sensed that, perhaps, something was wrong. Did you know that Corvairs don’t jump well? After the impact the only thing not bent was the hood ornament. To add insult to injury there were also two perfect head sized dents popping out of the formerly straight roof. In those days, seatbelts were an option.

During his school years, David was well known as the class clown. On one occasion, a fellow student was giving a report on WWII and demonstrated the use of a dummy hand grenade his grandfather gave him by pulling the pin and rolling it down the aisle. David immediately jumped out of his seat, ran to the grenade and while clutching it to his stomach made an explosion sound while jumping up and then turned back to the class and informed them “me and my atomic bellybutton have saved the day!” The teacher was not impressed, and Dave made another trip to detention. I followed Dave by two years in school and when they found out I was Dave’s brother I was immediately sat at front and center of the teacher’s desk. Nowadays we call that “profiling” and I heard that was wrong. Of course, nowadays, if a student brought a fake grenade to a classroom he would be arrested, his grandfather would be declared a terrorist and half the city would go on lockdown.

David left the family home at the age of 17 and became a full-fledged “hippie”. He lived in a shack in the woods, smoked pot all day and communed with the animals, people who wandered by and any available female type hippie he could find. I remember visiting him when I was 15 (by the way, what were my parents thinking sending a 15-year-old off to visit his brother in a shack in the hills for a week!) It was an enlightening trip indeed and for some reason I don’t really recall anything of it.

David had an interesting choice of friends during his hippie days. One interesting guy was “Cherokee”. He was a full blood Cherokee and looked like he just walked of a set of a John Wayne movie. Cherokee was a loyal friend to Dave and adopted me as his little spirit brother. Last I saw of Cherokee was after he helped Dave move our family to Reno, Nevada. Cherokee had “borrowed” my father’s Lincoln Continental to see what it was like to get drunk and T-Bone a Yellow Cab. He kept scarce of the family after that. Can’t think why?

Another associate of Dave’s was” John”. John was your typical hippie type of the era but had a unique way of thinking, this was most likely due to the experimental mind-altering chemicals he ingested that day. Example: John was driving by a local airport and saw an airplane on the tarmac. He thought to himself “I like airplanes!” and at that moment decided that he needed an airplane. His solution was to drive onto the airport (remember, we are talking about the 1970’s) and tie a rope to the first plane that caught his eye. He then tried towing it home to their shack in the woods. He didn’t get too far and that was the last I saw of “John” for at least 5/10 years.

David discovered his love for music in his early teens. He started playing upright string base and graduated to any stringed instrument that you could find. Dave was very focused on music. Once, when we were practicing with a group of friends, an earthquake stuck. We all left our instruments and ran to the nearest doorway only to find Dave occupying it already with his upright base at his side.

David was always attracted to the fairer sex as they were to him. I was constantly amazed at how David could have these beautiful girls hanging around him all the time. I mean, yes, Dave was a good-looking man as far as tall skinny, boney legged, follicle impaired facial hair guys go. But he was no Tom Selleck by any means. David was married several times. In fact, after yet another of his marriages fell apart, I approached Dave and said: “Dave, I think it’s you!”. The reply I received was Dave’s goofy little smile with elevated eyebrows.

The rest, as they say, is history. Dave spent the rest of his life honing his musical craft until he ended up a Winnipesaukee and found the place he wanted to be for the rest of his life.

Rest in Peace my dear brother Rest in Peace.