Makes Me Smile

 My brother liked to laugh and have a good time; He enjoyed life, and  brought joy to  the people around him - friend and stranger alike.

In a conversation  several months before his death, Walt talked to me about who his role models were when he was growing up, and how it was never his  goal to sit  around in an office reading books, and  doing paperwork,  (as if I didn't know) but learning to ride  motorcycles, fishing, guns, cars . He wanted adventure,  and the outdoor life. I'd say he followed his heart pretty well along those lines.  Walt was a fine  fisherman, knew a lot about cars,  had a prize gun collection, and owned a Harley.

Two years ago, Walt called  to ask if I'd take a road trip with him on the back of his motorcycle. I asked if he was joking.  He wasn't . "We'll  have a great time", he said. I hemmed and hawed a bit too long.   "You're not afraid to ride with me,are you?"   I told him, no ,but in truth I was. My daring,  and longing for adventure didn't quite match my brother's. Thinking about it now, I'd give anything if i could turn back time,  as Cher sings,  "If I could find a way". I wouldn't hesitate a minute to  pack my  saddlebag (with a bottle of tranquilizers),   and  take that road trip with Walt. He was right, we'd have  a grand time ! Him in his Harley leathers, me in my Harley boots ,  we'd be a poster promo for  brother and sister  bikers on the loose.
This Memorial Day marks a year since Walt's been gone. We, his family and friends think of him tenderly - the darling baby, the cute little boy, the fun-loving teenager, and the good man he was.

A few minutes ago I read a poignant letter from dad, recalling funny things Walt said when he was little. Dad wrote,  While at Mass one Sunday,  he asked me, "Why do the Sisters wear cowboy hats?"

 Last night, with both tears and laughter, my mother and I sat together telling and re-telling stories about Walt, and the  joy he was to us.

Because my parents divorced when Walt and I were young, and  dad moved to St. Louis,   for many years it was just Mom, Walt and me - we called ourselves The Three Muskateers, and shared a special bond  of caring and  togetherness . It truly seemed we were , " One for all , and all for one".  Our home operated on team work. Mom was the leader. She went to work every day, Walt and I to school, but each of us were responsible for certain daily/weekly tasks .  For awhile I did the ironing, but didn't iron Walt's shirts to his liking so he took over that job, and was I glad he did ! I hated to iron, and do to this day. Walt also liked to cook better than I did. And kept his drawers neater than mine. When we got older , Walt would tease me , and we'd  laugh about him being a better housekeeper than me !

We also played together.  Mom would get home from work at 5:30, we'd give her just enough time to change her clothes,  never realizing how tired she was ,then we'd drive to the beach for some summer fun. While mom watched, Walt and I would make believe we were great body surfer's ,  and toss a Frisbee. It was an idylic time in our lives.

It's impossibe to capture all the memories of my life with Walt in a paragraph or two, and what he meant to me,  but I'll continue to tell stories about him, and in doing so will smile.


















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