What You Should Know About My Baby Brother

When he was born, Mom asked me what we should name him. Since there was this cute boy that rode my bus named Leonard, I told Mom we should name him Leonard – and call him Lennie for short. Mom was speechless. She never did share with me who chose the name David.

I got to change his diapers. Something new and exciting called “Pampers” were just invented. You had to use diaper pins, though – no sticky or Velcro tapes to fasten them with.

He loved tractors already at age six. He liked to spend time sitting on the tractor, pretending he was driving. He found out that if you played with the cigarette lighter you could pretend you were smoking a cigarette. Mom found out when she heard him scream, his lips branded with a red circle of burned skin.

With great curiosity, David could be found under Grandma’s hospital bed, turning the crank and trying to figure out just how it worked. That curiosity carried him into the pre-teen years, dragging out Dad’s tools and making things in workshop in the basement. Once again, screams of pain traveled up the staircase as he mistakenly kneeled down on a board which was lying on the cement floor with a nail in it.

He cried when Frosty the Snowman melted.

For a very small moment, we both wore the same size shoes.

For a very small moment, I could take him down and sit on him.

When I got my driver’s license, David was a champion back seat driver. One time after spouting off one too many directions to me, I abruptly stopped the car (not too far from home) and made him get out and walk. I don’t remember any back seat driving after that.

He played the saxophone.

I helped him get ready to go to his high school prom. I shined his burgundy shoes, fastened the bow tie and cumberbund on his light blue tuxedo, and styled his dark brown hair.

My brother survived his snowmobile hitting a tree. He lay in the snow for about three hours until his friends found him. The bark from the tree was embedded in his helmet. We stayed by his side through shoulder and knee surgery – and the rehabilitation after.

David continued in his adult life with his love of tractors and making things, by building his own pulling tractor. Watching the black smoke roll out of the stack, hearing the whistle of the turbos, and feeling the ground beneath you tremble with the unleashed horsepower as the tractor makes its way down the track is breathtaking. Although it lasts only about ten seconds, it overpowers you with a rush of fear and excitement -all at once.

He has two darling daughters, who are a special part of our family.

Oh, and my baby brother has a birthday tomorrow. Happy birthday, David!