He Ain't Heavy

Sorry for the delay, sorry for the missed days, I’m sorry okay. Jeez. Work is crazy busy.

August is a big month for birthdays, dontcha know. You got Bif, you got the irrepressible G-Ra, you got the divine Ms. Miller and the force of nature that is Hellbus. You also have Donny Most, the freckle faced red head who played Ralph Malph on television’s “Happy Days.”

When I was a kid, I always thought it was Ralph Mouth. I also always wondered what happened to the older Cunningham child. I also thought Potsie was a douche. I also thought it was cool when Fonzie jumped the shark.

But this is not about television’s “Happy Days”, it’s about yours and my happy days. No it’s not, I lied. It’s about how my brother’s birthday also falls within the confines of the month of August and how I called him in Costa Rica to wish him a good one.

1) I’m amazed that the phone I carry around in the pocket of my jeans can call Costa Rica. Frankly I’m always a little amazed when this tiny bugger can call anyone, and honestly I think fax machines are made possible through some sort of black magic. And…

2) When I picture my brother in Costa Rica, I imagine a green and wet jungle from some B movie, or perhaps a very special episode of “Happy Days” where Joanie and Chachi travel abroad and get malaria, comforting each other in a very romantic, but chaste televised sort of way. But anyway, it’s a stereotypic jungle with dirt roads and huts with corrugated tin roofs and rains that wash away said roads and huts. I may not be far from the truth, I’ve yet to be able to visit my brother’s adopted land.

Call him I did, while I walked along 1st Avenue on my way home. And while on the phone with him, it began raining so hard there that I could hear it over the difficult connection, like some monster snake from above mentioned B movie or special episode of “Happy Days”.

My brother and I had the same sort of tumultuous and abusive relationship that a lot of siblings have, and he being the younger took the brunt of the abusive part from me. While we fought more often than not, there was love and a friendship there underneath the other crap. I particularly remember couch cushion forts and creating separate sleeping quarters underneath the fold out bed where we would drag the 13” black and white and some popcorn to watch the late night Saturday monster movies.

As an adult, this guy actually had the audacity to have a dream and pursue it. He fell in love with Costa Rica and so he bought property and moved there. He is currently running a bar with his wife and apparently working pretty hard at it.

It just felt good to talk to him so many miles away. He sounded tired, but he sounded happy, happy to be living a life that he chose, happy about his nephew and meeting him soon, happy to be talking to his brother on the phone. I was reminded that, not only did I of course love him, but I highly respected the man that he has become. I felt an obvious connection of brothers, but another connection that was harder to put my finger on. I felt like there was an unforced, relaxed and perfect understanding of each other, there was excitement from both sides of that tiny telephone for the lives each of us are living.

It’s easy for me to look at him as this cosmic joker in the universal deck, but that’s both divine and dangerous. Sometimes I just need to remember him as my brother, as simple and as great as all of that is.