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| Drew and Sam : the boys as the boys |
When Drew left for college, Sam was not yet a teenager. He didn't count the days until his brother's first break. He kept a chart on the back of his door and crossed off the
days.
It was after Drew had been out of the house for five years that I understood the enduring strength of their brother relationship.
Below is a post I wrote that year about the closeness that was not lost in the separation, but enriched by the days that came before.
Below is a post I wrote that year about the closeness that was not lost in the separation, but enriched by the days that came before.
September 6, 2011
From the kitchen window, I’m watching Drew on the lawn, chipping
golf balls into the air toward his target which is the outstretched hand of
Sam, who leaps from the shallow end of the pool and into the air like a
caffeinated retriever. There is heckling and laughing when he misses, and then
catches the little ball. Despite the chance that this ad-hoc game could end
with a head injury and a trip to the ER, for now, it has my appreciation.
On paper, Drew the golfer, and Sam the baseball player, have four things in common which are their parents and siblings. Drew is organized, pays his bills on time, and runs his life like a business. Sam is spontaneous, has not met a deadline he can’t extend, and handles all his responsibilities on the same day of the week after he is sure that everyone he knows is busy. They are seven years apart, at different stages of life, with a respective circle of friends who wouldn’t necessarily click. On paper, there is no reason they’d want to spend time together, and yet…
It is a week later and a tropical storm has left us without power. Nobody is happy but for Sam and Drew, who have unearthed a twelve-year-old video game called “Backyard Baseball” and are playing it in Sam’s dark room on a battery-charged computer. There is much mocking of the nostalgic, antiquated game that once captivated them. I crack the door and peer inside and they wave at me. It looks like they are sitting in a mitten. Both are wearing baseball hats.
As people, they affect others differently. People talk to Drew who is by
trade as well as by nature, a careful listener and talented writer. People listen to Sam who has been a compelling and
persuasive speaker for all but six months of his seventeen years. And yet...
After a while the power is back on and the storm has calmed. The boys appear dressed and showered and announce that they are going to check the level of the river. They haven’t a clue what they’re checking, what to compare it to, and I’m sure they may not even know where the river is, they just think it will be fun to be “storm trackers.”
Here is the something.
Fun happens when we're not trying to have it, I think, a feeling more than a thing we actually do. It can make you glad to be alive, glad to be who you are or glad about who you're with. And though I think fun as a feeling is hard to replicate only by recreating an activity, I believe the soul keeps track of our potential to feel it again.
In the way they related to each other, our boys discovered their appetite for fun. Despite the distance that followed, they never lost it.
One day, Sam and Drew will have spouses and children and schedule issues that make it hard to get together unless the serious one is willing to hop a flight at the last minute or the less-serious one is willing to plan in advance. They will need to remember the feeling of fun to make it work. They will.
Life says, “Here’s my price,” and we decide: we can afford it or we can’t. My belief, as their mother and ride to the ER, is that they will have absorbed each other’s company and counsel enough to remember these days of fun clearly. Enough at least to make a healthy down payment on that asking price.
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| Sam and Drew at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame September 20, 2013 |
