Into This House We're Born


Ernie (far left), dad & David in Globe ,Arizona

Ernie, Vicki and me at my mom's funeral.  I love how Vicki always holds my brothers arm in pictures.
When you've been crying for days, your mother just died, you're stressed out but you are so happy to be with your brother.  This is that face. 



Ernie recently on his repaired bike


A bright smile school pic

on a morning hike

Ernie with his wife Vicki and all us sisters at our brother David's funeral in Fort Wayne, Indiana
Visiting in Arizona

Ernie riding my brother's bike at his funeral - still stops my heart.

Me and Ernie in Queen Creek, Arizona 

This is my story about my dear brother Ernie.  Ynes.  Pure, holy, chaste it says as I look for the meaning of the name.   He's my oldest brother who lives in the beautiful setting of Prescott, Arizona, happily retired and enjoying painting and going on nature hikes.  He's just hitting 70 but doesn't look it. I don't see him as often as I would like but whatever it is that happens when we're young, when we get attached to someone special, that deep rooted connection, it has and always will stay with me.  I loved my brother and admired him so much growing up.  I ignored the list of his silly shortcomings sometimes stated by my mother when I gushed about him too much.  That he was sneaky, up to no good, and assorted eye rolls.  She often had cause to yell at him as I recall.  But he could do no wrong in my book and I often felt mom needed to chill a bit where he was concerned.  He saved my life afterall.  I once broke a lamp and he helped me hide it in the front closet.  Well the day my mom opened that door and found it hidden behind some boxes, the day I dreaded but had long since forgotten about, there was a shriek heard round the world.  I just remember my brother snatched me up and opened the front door wide open and he told me to run as fast as I could out of there while he got between mom and the belt.  And I did, I ran as fast as I could behind the house, to the creek line, too young to cross at that point.  I could hear her yelling inside the house at him as I made my escape.

Ernie and David were quite the draw for the ladies in the neighborhood very early on.  He had a girlfriend that I'll never forget, Wendy.  She was beautiful and in my mind she was the Ann Margaret of the old neighborhood.  Red wavy hair, possibly green eyes.  Although I adored her, I didn't love that she came between my brother and I because he was mine, like a puppy, like my stuffed bear Fred.  He was mine to hug and laugh with.   She didn't seem to respect those boundaries.  And Ernie seemed to be so taken by her but always was kind to me about it when I literally pushed my little body between them and tried to intercept any smooching.

Down the road a little Ernie had to go into the service.  He was to become a Marine Sargent and although I was very young, I did understand this was a huge loss for our household.  My dad must have drove him because I remember my mother held me at the side door watching the car pull down the street that took her boy away.  Propped on her arm, my legs dangling, I was level with her face and I saw that she was crying and she spoke to me like I was an adult for a moment.  She prayed for him to come back safe to her.  She was speaking quickly and I couldn't make it all out because I was taken aback by her deep sadness.  She did love him, very much but I hadn't really understood until then.  She worried for him. Ernie made sure to say goodbye to me too in our hallway by the coats racks.  He knelt down and told me he would be gone for a long while.  Awhile to a 4 year old was an unformed length of time.  He told me it would possibly be years and it sounded very serious.  My heart broke and I couldn't bare to think of Ernie gone.  He was so fun and funny.  He was there everyday, a bright light. Sometimes like a kid himself, he liked to play with me. I never felt like I was bothering him like everyone else. His energy was joyful.

He would come back years later just like he said, different as I was also different.  He was still incredible, now a real man.  He got right to life and rode Harley motorcycles with my other brother David and I was excited to have him living with us at the house. He brought in his own record albums and would sing to me and Rach.  After realizing his bed was empty more times than not, I began cleaning his room for money and hanging out in there daydreaming of all the adventures he must be having. Sometimes I'd try to wait up for him but would never make it and race to see if he was there in the morning.


Back from Vietnam and hanging with brother David
He was always very good at drawing and sent some amazing scenes from the jungle and a pencil drawing of pipes that I stared at many times when I felt like remembering him.  I couldn't imagine what his life was like there in Vietnam.  I'd heard stories but the drawings were the only clues and I understood zero about the war.  I don't remember talking about it all after he came back.
painting
Soon a young girl started coming over and they seemed to be joined at the hip as my mom would say.  They'd come down from his room and I thought it was my mind playing tricks that she'd have on his overalls on occasion.  What could they be doing up there is what I wanted to know and by the bothered look on my mom's face when I asked her, I figured it was something forbidden.  Vicki adored my brother and no one could deny that this was a very permanent kind of love.  It was good to see but it all happened too quickly for me.  Soon he was gone, married, making a family of his own.  His wife Vicki was a force and I learned a lot from her and we became very close.  She settled directly into our family and called my mom 'mom' in her loud super friendly voice and I remember being so shocked and amazed that someone would be so bold.  Also impressed that she wanted anything to do with our Midwestern Mexican wackiness.  She seemed to genuinely love everything about us.  She took pity on my weird shy, awkwardness and gave me regular advice on how to be a normal girl.  The hair on my thighs stood up high like redwood trees in the sun one afternoon while laying out in plastic lawn chairs.  She said gently 'it might be time to start shaving, hon'.  She was very quick to point out any of my oddities which I secretly liked because I had so many.  I was never sure what was normal and was convinced I was a freak of nature.  I didn't see my sisters being tweens and Rachel seemed to shoot from 9 to 13 without any time passing.

You would refer to them as Ernie and Vicki now, as you would never think to refer to them separately.  They would be good friends to me.  They would allow me to schlep along to the lake with them and Vicki would often pick me up to do errands.  I loved to watch her sing Motown songs on the car radio and tap to the beat with her long delicate fingers on the steering wheel.  I felt cool getting to ride along with an almost grown up.  She seemed to have it all together, like she knew what she wanted and just set the machine on drive. She was good at all of those feminine traits.  Their apartments were immaculate, she knew how to make them homey.  She constantly changed up her looks, hair and eventually had two babies, one boy and one girl.   Even way back then I was pretty sure this would not be my path but it made me appreciate the amount of talent, love and effort it takes to make a real family.

I was happy for Ernie and he kept blooming.  They moved to Arizona, I moved to California.  Life happened and I visited and they visited but it is and was always way too long in between.

With Vicki on a boat in a lake
Ern and I feeling rain in Tucson
I miss my brother.  I wish we were closer or I was financially able to visit and hang regularly.  I sometimes mourn a little for the time we haven't spent.  But I know he's living happily and that is all I ever want for him.
Vicki and Ernie dancing

No comments:

Post a Comment

Just nod if you can hear me. Is there anyone at home?