It’s often been said that the mind works in mysterious ways and while I’m certainly no expert on the subject I can probably vouch for its accuracy.
I don’t think I’ve thought about him in years and even if I did it was probably only fleeting in nature. The subject usually popped into my head only when someone else was telling a tale of misery and woe and this was the only way I could commiserate with them. Even then, the story was told only in snippets and blurbs and without some of the more gory details. After all, I wasn’t there to compare notes with somebody else’s sorrow. I was there to offer a soothing ear and maybe a word or two of compassion.
New Year’s Day was different though. I hadn’t gone out the night before and had no plans on leaving the house. Even though the weather was cold my spirits were warm and the thought of throwing some pork and sauerkraut in the crock pot and curling up with a “sortabiography” (his term, not mine although I like it) of George Carlin sounded pretty good. In addition, there was a whole slate of college football bowl games I could choose from if I got bored with the book.
About a hundred pages in I had this sort of nagging feeling come over me. Something was missing but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I went over my mental checklist just be sure I hadn’t forgotten to call anybody and wish them a Happy New Years or anything else I might have done or not have done to offend my friends and family. Nope, all was good on that front but still, the nagging feeling wouldn’t go away.
I got to a chapter in the book where Carlin starts talking and reminiscing about his older brother and that’s when the light dawned on me.
Had he lived, my brother would have turned sixty seven on New Year’s Day.
I won’t go into all the thoughts and “might have beens” that crossed my mind for the next couple of hours. I couldn’t really concentrate on the book anymore and the football games were just white noise to me as I sat back in my recliner and thought about the past. Maybe it was only for a couple of minutes but it seemed like hours before I drifted off to sleep and awoke later to the smell of the pork and sauerkraut.
No matter how many years in-between, I guess the past never really does go away.
I don’t know whether to be scared or comforted by that. Probably a little of both.
So brother, if you can hear me and sorry it’s taken so long to say this but just remember, Happy Birthday From Planet Motherfucker.