Brotherhood

Reposted from April 30, 2008

This is my brother Jon. He’s not my brother by blood– his mom is my stepmom. But I’ve known him since he was ten years old, and I really don’t get into the distinctions between “blood” and “steps.” He is my brother. That goofy smile on his face? Pretty much sums him up completely.

He’s on a boat, somewhere in the middle of the Persian Gulf. Smiling like an idiot.

But he’s not an idiot– far from it. Jon knows everything about every sports team ever. The summer I lived with him, after my sophomore year of college, I heard him practicing being a sports announcer every. single. day. He would commentate for the TV, for a video games, and even for sports events being held in his imagination. It was his dream at the time. I don’t know if it’s still his dream. (I’d like to tell you that being the unwitting audience for his hours of sports announcing was endearing, but at narcissistic 19, I was just annoyed.)

Jon is also the original Dr. Do-little. He’s a nut for anything animal, and can spout off biological facts that would make your head spin.

He’s a great dad. He got this experience early, when he and his high school sweetheart became parents at the tender age of 18 and 19. They have three beautiful kids, who are as smart as all get out, funny, and kind. Probably a little goofy, just like their dad.

He used to run through the house in his undies with (clean) underwear on his head, his sister’s little pink back pack on his back, and his socks hiked up to his knees, pretending to be some kind of crazy superhero. Then he would jump off of the couch, hitting the ground completely horizontal, and scamper off down the hall. I think he was like 14 when he last did that. (Trust me, it was hilarious.)

He tortured his little sister (our little sister) like hell, because she was 6 years younger, and cute, and kind of a whiner. Actually, he and my other brother, David, would tag team her and fart on her for hours on a Saturday. Good times.

He is the sweetest boy you will ever meet, though he is now technically a man both in years and in life experience. He’d do anything for anyone, is perpetually having the best day of his life, and constantly grins from ear to ear.

My brother is the face of our war in Iraq.

It would be easy to use him, exploit his situation, as a battle cry for my political beliefs about our war over there. But that would plain piss Jon off, and it isn’t really what I want to say.

What I want to say, is please be safe my brother. Please protect each other, brothers-in-arms. I can’t say that I know 100% why you are there, but simply that you are, and for now there is nothing for me to do about that but pray and wait for the time when you safe with us again.

And hope that when that time comes, you’ll be healthy and whole, and ready to move on to the next phase of your life. And that you’ll don the underwear on your head again– I just love that schtick.