May 26th - Memorial Day,  2014  

A Good Day for Remembering

Have I ever told you about my eldest brother, Robert?  Quite a guy, Robert.  Here's a photo of him when he was younger than memory - good looking fellow, don't you agree?   I guess this photo must have been taken back in, oh, the late 1950s.  Rob held the place of the eldest of the four kids in our family; just as I'm the youngest.  Despite the ten year difference in our ages, he and I looked so much alike that a friend of mine, in seeing Rob and me beside one another, remarked that if we had both been of the same gender we most certainly would have been taken for twins.

We thought a lot alike as well; being the two risk-takers, the debaters, the explorers, and the tradition-breakers of the family.

 It was Rob who tutored me in math so I'd pass the SATs, and Rob who arrived by my side first when I came into too-close contact with a container of poison as a very young kid - it was Rob who blazed the trails in so many ways as we all were growing up.  Though there was a great distance of time between us there was always a strong link between Rob and me;  call it a "psychic bond" if you like - some strong connection which never ended and never weakened.

Rob was always attracted to the oceans, and ultimately became a marine biologist; inventing the aquaculture method now used world-wide to farm shrimp. He and his wonderful wife Nica raised five amazing kids; mostly in Australia.  Here's a photo of his family - again, an old picture from 1991 but they look so great I couldn't resist sharing it:

But that's not why I called your attention to him.

Rob's first love of the ocean began with his being a beachcomber (which our dad interpreted as being a "bum").  One day when I was maybe 8 or 9 years old I received a package from Rob.  In it was one of those glass floats that are attached to fishing nets that he'd found on the beach one day.  With it was a poem he'd written, which I want to share with you.  It has affected me deeply  all my life, and I gift it to you in the hope of it touching your heart as warmly and as deeply as it has always touched mine.

Oh, and if you're confused by why he addresses me as "Drucie" in the poem below - it's because that's my full name...

When they ask you, Drucie, "What does he do?", you can
say that I'm a beachcomber.  A beachcomber is someone who
looks for things like this glass ball.  For the soul reason
that it is beautiful.  Living means:  to find beautiful things.
The purpose of finding beautiful things is to give them away.
And that, Drucie, is love.

A beachcomber gives away beautiful things, thus he lives to
love.  That is what human means.  A beachcomber is a
human being.  The most beautiful thing a human being can give
away is himself.  As often and as completely as possible.
Fulfilled living is infinite loving and that, Drucie, is God.

The beachcomber is God.  His life is fulfilled giving away
beauty.  He gives himself away untold times and his gifts
come together and grow.  A unity is made and remade with
all the gifts.  The unity of a beautiful thing;  a thing to find and
give away.  I give you myself, Drucie, in this glass ball.


I kept that glass ball for many, many years, and though it finally broke, I've never forgotten it or that poem.


As to my eldest brother, Robert, he once again led the way for his family - this time across the rainbow bridge, when in June of 2009, having been mostly paralyzed by the hideous disease ALS, (also known as Lou Gehrig's disease) he bid his wife and children goodbye and ended their ordeal and his by taking his own life.  His family continues his fight to allow death with dignity for people in Australia with debilitating terminal diseases.

While no one in my immediate family fought in any political wars, both my mother and my brother Rob fought a far more insidious war with ALS.  For me, Memorial Day is for them.