Big brothers are meant to be looked up to. As a kid growing up, you want to be just like them. It's natural order. You need look no further than to watch two young siblings interact. I see it with my grandchildren Jamison and his sister Addie, and Bryant and his sister Brookelynn. The looks in Addie and Brookelynn's eyes as they follow their older brothers around and mimic their every move are priceless. In their innocent age, their big brothers are their heroes. As they grow, they will continue to learn and look up to their brothers.
Time has a funny way of separating bonds. Sometimes it creates wedges that egos and pride won't let you restore. If they are lucky, there will be no wedge to drive them apart. However, there are bound to be some riffs that cause division along the way. Sibling rivalry, jealousy, etc. It's part of growing up. It happens to us all. One thing is certain, though. No matter how mad the sisters become at their brothers, they will always seek their brothers' approval in nearly everything they do. They'll never admit it, and may not even realize that they are seeking it, but they have sought it since day one.
I remember "tagging along" with my brother, Bruce. My mom would make him take me along with his friends when they went riding on their bicycles in the neighborhood. He would always try and convince me to find my friends and go play with them. There were times that he would tell me to wait for him downstairs or outside, while he disappeared from another window or door from the house. He "ditched" me quite often. Not that I blame him, a group of six grade friends probably didn't want or need a kindergarten kid hanging around. I never grew wise. Sometimes, he'd tell me that we would play a quick game of hide and seek before catching up with his friends. Of course, he'd be long gone by the time I opened my eyes after counting to ten.
Although he wouldn't let me "tag along" with his friends, he still took care of his little brother. Whether it was ice skating on a frozen Indiana pond, building bicycle ramps to emulate Evel Knievel, or catching crawdads, he included me in enough adventures that I didn't despair too long when he lost me in lieu of his friends. Instead, I went crawdad catching by myself. Once after falling in the pond, I quickly ran home and changed clothes before my mom could find out what happened. Instead of putting the wet clothes in the washing machine, I hung them up in the closet. Of course, my mom found the clothes and blamed Bruce for what happened since I was supposed to be with him.
He took care of his little brother in many ways. Once, there was a neighborhood kid a few years older than me who kept threatening and terrorizing me. Like typical bullies, he picked on younger kids because his behavior would never be tolerated among his own age group. When I told Bruce and my other brother, Larry, about it, they devised a plan. "Lure him into the yard," they told me. "When he steps in our yard, we'll take care of him." I didn't fully trust my brothers. I was the little brother, the baby of the bunch who always got his way. I thought they might be setting me up. I wasn't so sure that they'd "rescue" me.
After coaxing from both brothers, I set out to lure the bully to our house. He had threatened to beat me up the next time he saw me on the street, so I pedaled faster than Lance Armstrong back to the house when he spotted me. Like a hungry mouse who comes out in search of bits of cheese, he fell for the trap. I threw my bike down and ran in the door. Thinking I was home alone, the dumb bully beat at my door shouting threats. "He's outside!" I exclaimed to Bruce. "Is he in our yard?" Bruce asked. "He's at the door!" I screamed. "Go get Larry," Bruce instructed me as he headed to the door."
I ran upstairs to get my brother Larry. Evidently, he didn't think I would spring the trap as quickly as I did as he had started a shower. "He's here!" I shouted at the bathroom door. I heard the water shut off, and Larry stepped out of the bathroom shirtless with a towel around his shoulders. By the time we reached the yard, Bruce had the bully pinned to the grass and was throwing punches to his face. Soon, both of my brothers were beating the boy. In one of the funniest memories that I have, Bruce held the boy down while Larry snapped and popped the towel repeatedly to the boy's back. I'll never forget the cries of the bully as he promised to never bother me again. He never did, by the way. Not that I condone violence, but it was good to have a big brother or two that day.
After disposing of my bully, Bruce didn't have a problem with me "tagging along' any longer. In fact, he frequently invited me along for adventures with his friends. I probably got on his friends' nerves at times. As a matter of fact, I'm sure I did, but Bruce never acknowledged it.
Another of my fond memories are the trips to Opryland he invited me on with him and his friends during the summer of his junior and senior years of high school. Before my trips to Opryland with Bruce and the gang, my only previous trips had been with my parents. Not that I didn't appreciate the trips with my parents, but there was no comparison to the experience with Bruce. With my parents, we usually left the park before dark because they were tired and wanted to get home early. As sixth grade pre-teenage boy, I knew nothing about their concerns over the long trip from Nashville to Milan and wanting to get some rest before work the next day. I just thought they were old and didn't know how to have fun. On the contrary, we closed the park down with Bruce's friends. By 9 p.m., most families had gone home for the evening. This meant that there were no long lines like there were in the afternoon. We rode the Wabash Cannonball and Grizzly River Rampage over and over. We simply got off when the ride ended, and immediately got right back on. It was like an all you can eat buffet. We definitely got our money's worth that night.
As time passed, I spent less time with my brother. He began building a life, while I still had several years of childhood to finish. As a last resort to earn needed income for his family, he joined the United States Army. Although it was just a means to an end at the time, it became his passion and career. Like everything else he did in life, he engulfed himself 100% in his career. Not quite comprehending the magnitude of what he did at the time, I listened to stories of him eliminating terrorist attacks on American ships in the Persian Gulf as part of Operation Praying Mantis. "They were speed boats equipped with machine guns. Little boats attacking giant ships," he explained. "They weren't going to stop." I didn't understand the magnitude at the time, but he did. This was in 1988, long before 9/11 exposed how relentless terrorists can be.
In 1993, he was deployed to Somalia to support Task Force Ranger in response to Somalian attacks against the U.S. military during their presence of the Somalian state of chaos. Most have heard of the movie Blackhawk Down. Those were Bruce's helicopters. Without him, they didn't fly. He was asked by the producer of the movie if he thought it was an accurate portrayal of the events. "No," he replied. When asked what he meant, he replied, "It shouldn't have ended that way. We didn't finish the mission." When explaining this to me as he explained the significance of the plaque the movie producers had given him, he asked me, "Who was that dimwit that was in office then?" Bruce was conservative to the core. He was proud of his service. He told me of how Michael Durant, the soldier held hostage during the Battle of Mogadishu, began reporting to him after their return to Fort Campbell. Once again, I had no idea. The plaque had been in his house for years, but I was just then realizing the significance and what it meant to him.
After retiring from the Army, he expressed his interest in teaching. He told me about wanting to teach gym. It made perfect sense. He had worked with kids across the country coaching them hockey and soccer. Although he was unable to garner a job within the public school system, he was offered a job instructing electronics at Tennessee College of Applied Technology. He taught electronics there for a couple of years until cutbacks eliminated his position. Within a few months, he had been invited back to TCAT to instruct a new program, Green Technology. This was new to the area and Bruce. Nevertheless, he immersed himself in the subject. He learned as much about the technology as possible.
He had told me that it was an experimental program and that its continuation would depend on the amount of funds received for it. It was not just his job to instruct Green Technology, but to ensure that it was successful to receive continuing funds. Like everything else he did, he immersed himself 100% in the success of the class and its students. For a former motor and gearhead, his new passion and favorite color was green. He and his class installed solar panels at residences and businesses across West Tennessee and surrounding areas. He explained to me how this was a win-win. It gave the students experience and expanded community knowledge of the technology. He installed solar panels at his house, Temple Baptist Church, Milan Christian Academy, and several homes of friends and members of his church. He fully believed in the program and the success of his students.
Somewhere along the line, he became aware of the effects of electrolysis and its interaction with fuel mixture. I do not fully understand the process, so I cannot accurately describe it. He began building hydrogen generators from glass jars. At the time, gas was nearly $4 a gallon. As he explained the increase in gas mileage that a hydrogen generator could create, interest within the community grew. Before long, there was enough interest to begin a class on weekends at TCAT on Saturdays. He created an online forum where students and enthusiasts could interact and ask questions. The class was so successful that he asked me to sit in on one in case I wanted to teach the subject. I was amazed at the knowledge that he passed on in the class. I along with most people didn’t even know the concepts he presented were possible. I enjoyed the class and bagged about what he was doing to anyone that would listen, but the process was above my mechanical and electronic limitations. I appreciated his faith in me, but I had no business attempting to teach the class. Soon, gas prices receded slightly and interest in the class waned. His generator, though, is still on his truck today.
Bruce did many other things in the area that he poured 100% of his heart and energy into as well. While managing a local store, he brought it out of the dark ages and began marketing it via radio and television. Since he left the store, I have not seen nor heard of any advertisements for it. Someone could write several books pertaining to all of his accomplishments. Perhaps, they will one day be written.
Any memory of Bruce cannot be written or spoken without mentioning his dedication to God. Once again, he invested 100%. My dad and I used to speak of how Bruce was never home. If he wasn't working, he was busy with scouts, soccer, or busy with his bus ministry. Sometimes I wondered if he was the true inspiration for Michael Keaton's movie, Multiplicity. If anyone ever tells you that they don't have time for something, they are lying. If not to you intentionally, they are lying to themselves. Bruce was the embodiment of time management. He did all of the aforementioned, yet still woke up every day at 4 a.m. and ran 5 miles. With everything that he did, he did it to please God. It's hard not to be sad in his death, but I fully believe he fulfilled his purpose.
Like Addie and Brookelynn, I looked up to and sought approval from my big brother. Upon reflection, I unknowingly patterned everything I did after what my big brother did. Even when I bought my house, I compared it to his. However, Bruce is too big to be simply my hero alone. He touched countless lives and is a hero to many. I am but one of many in a long line of admirers, but he was everthing that I want to be.
As I read this, I smiled the whole way down!
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