A tribute doesn't need a death to justify it. Written for my brother's 50th birthday, and filed just before midnight.
50 years ago today, in the heart of Lowell, Mass - the home of Jack Kerouac - my brother Chad was born. Rather than wait to conjure some ultimate life-story eulogy if I get to survive him, I figured I’d give a progress update, at the halfway mark. I’ve got reason to believe that is in, in fact, the halfway mark, but I’ll get to that in a bit.
It is par on my course to send cards, texts, or make visits weeks or months late for events such as this, often not at all. If I get this out before midnight, I think my family will mark me down for a birdie.
Since I’m teeing off here with the Big Wood, I figure I should make my first stroke a long ball, so let me go back to the eighties, when I was a mere undiagnosed ADHD (we didn’t really check for that as much back then) tumbleweed of knees, elbows, and giant “coke bottle” glasses - yeah, I was a bit of a case. I didn’t know it until very much later, but Chad always looked out for me, reserving all the non-fatal torture for himself, but keeping me away from real harm. The most vivid images are from our shared time in Riverside Military academy, where I was said tumbleweed, 13, and he was a senior at the academy, in his third year. He had garnered a significantly high-ranking circle of friends while keeping his own responsibilities to the school to a minimum. He was already enterprising at this stage in life, and I benefited often from the rewards. He knew then how your network is the most valuable asset you’ll ever have.
But Chad didn’t only keep company for their value to himself, he would love generously and was always surrounded by so many people that were faithful to him on a level that I couldn’t imagine (we got out the 3 iron for this dog-leg to the left). Just like my parents, Chad takes in people that are in need, and has always given himself to the duty of others. This is why he has always been a man of service, starting with the culinary arts during his university years, then working in many restaurants, always quickly being elevated to the top and running things. Toward the end of this career he joined our parents and ran their restaurant, which couldn’t survive 9/11 - I can tell you that shit slapped though. He still employs those skills on a regular basis and it might be no small part of his popularity. I also share food as a love language still, and frankly, we don’t suck at it. Let’s face it, we’re not saints, but Chad is as close to any saint that I’ve known.
Chad adapted (uh oh, I may have landed in the weeds). He was always quick to pick up skills, and in that spirit he gained a new following of people that would hire him and work for him. I got involved for a minute (like I do) and built him a website, one of my early ones, in the, uhh, 2000’s? This isn’t wikipedia, friends, I’m the one who falls off the skis and takes Chad down with me into the lake while wearing bluejeans, t-shirt, and a cigarette (yeah sorry). Anyhow, probably 2000’s. His enterprise grew into a business bringing in millions and managing crews all over the country. He even got our sister, Kristi, involved, putting her on a path to where she is today. I was always proud and glad (and maybe a tiny-bit jelly) for their togetherness and ability to work together.
Now Chad and Kristi live so near each other that their children and grandchildren, respectively, can grow up together. I hope you figured out who’s kids were kids and who’s kids were grandkids just there, because I’m on the green and going for a pretty long putt here. We have to go back to that half-way remark. We are a very fortunate family that enjoys a grandparent with some decent longevity, 99 years, who could give you a run for your money still today. I’ll place my bets, and I don’t think it’s too risky to wish for another 50 years for Chad, with all that we know. Yeah, right, this is a hope story. I was recently at an acapella performance for my boy Malcolm (Chad’s *nephew* - I’m still on the green) which I thought would be a review of middle-school acapella groups in the typical fashion (let’s keep it to “hard to hear well”), but turned out to be a pretty damn rockin show with award winning high school groups and a full-on technical production stage set with HOT mics for ever singer. I couldn’t help but think about how AI couldn’t touch this kind of feeling - I was *rooting* for those kids*, and holy shit they delivered. There’s the hope part, did you miss it? I think I’m saying, for me, Chad inspires hope that the future has just as much a chance as being better -for everyone- than it does being worse - because we can choose to root for each other, as he has always done for me. He was always a role model to me, maybe it took me a few years to see it, but the clarity I have on his positive influence all through my life is unmistakable. I can only hope that my boys can find the value in each other earlier than I did. The only way for love to spread is to give it away, and Chad is one of the most generous among us. Boy, I’m putting a lot of pressure on my sister’s 60th.
Happy Birthday Big Brother
P.S. Chat GPT knows, like, a *lot* about you now. Sorry. But I bet she thinks you're cool - if only you were taller.
*We’ll never root for the robots, we’ll just use them. Just kidding I’ll root for you, I’m just saying you’ll never give me that feeling.
11:45. Birdie
I write tributes for a living — eulogies, toasts, send-offs and keepsakes. See how that works.