Ode to An Older Brother

Dear Boo and Bubble,

Today would have been your great Uncle Bryant's 70th birthday and in just a few short days, he will have been gone for fifteen years. The Bridge Project is riddled with stories of him. In fact, the very foundational post of this blog (see Monday, October 29, 2012 - "Sermon on Beirut and Lebanon) is the only copy of one of his sermons that I have. Because he was such a pivotal person in my life and that of Captain, your mom and Aunt Bee, it is extremely important to me that you know as much about him as I can possibly impart. After wrestling with how best to accomplish my goal, I've decided to just unleash my memories and hope you get caught up in their flow of nostalgia.

When I think of Bryant, I remember -

The trip to Houston, TX, to visit your great, great grandmother Bethany when I was almost three and he was almost five and great granddaddy Schaefer raced our car along the highway against the train engineer on the paralleling tracks in Louisiana....with honks of the horn and toots of the engine answering each other for miles until the tracks and the road crossed....and we had to stop....waving as the train roared passed.

When I think of Bryant, I remember -

How we came back from Texas with his burning question to great granddaddy of the difference between a bull and a steer. How great granddaddy answered that a steer was a bull who had lost his ambition....and I piped in "Yes, Bryant, a steer is a bull who has lost his ammunition."

When I think of Bryant, I remember -

How, when coerced by great Mamaw Mary to let me "play" with him and his friends, they concocted a game of "Cowboys and Indians" whereby I became the cowboy and they tied me up to a tree and left me all the rest of the day while they went off engaged in other pursuits. It all fell apart when Bryant forgot totally about me and, as I was missing at the table for dinner, really got into hot water when Mamaw found me after dark at the tree completely eaten up with mosquito bites.

When I think of Bryant, I remember -

The World Series competition we had where Mamaw and I would pick a team with Granddaddy and Bryant selecting the other. The losers had to take the winners to the S&S cafeteria for dinner. (As a child, we had no concept that Granddaddy was paying for it regardless.) If losing were Bryant's fate, he would traverse the entire S&S food line ending up with only a glass of water on his tray.

When I think of Bryant, I remember -

The day that he gave me a chance (again coerced by Mamaw Mary) to join his baseball team in the field at University Ridge Apartments. He relegated me to the out, out, outfield and told me to stand there, not expecting that I might have any impact on the game at all.......until I miraculously caught a fly ball to win the game!

When I think of Bryant, I remember -

How I rolled with convulsive laughter on the floor in the back of our VW Beetle while Granddaddy taught him how to balance the clutch while shifting gears.......and the car coughed and hiccuped all the way down the parking lot of Stone Manufacturing....bucking like a bronco....and he got so mad at me.

And, conversely....when Granddaddy tried to show me how to hold the clutch at a stop sign on a hill and I rolled all the way down to the bottom before it caught....and Bryant guffawed from the back seat in revenge.

When I think of Bryant, I remember -

How he dedicated himself to football and the conditioning necessary to play the sport. And, how, the summer before his senior year, he took a lifesaving course......and then, we went to Ocean Drive for our annual week-long vacation.....and, because he was trained and physically capable, he swam for almost a hundred yards, dove to the bottom of the ocean and saved a person from drowning, for which he won a Carnegie Medal. (See Friday, December 14, 2012 - "Greater Love Hath No Man.")

When I think of Bryant, I remember -

How he left high school as the all-American boy, captain of the football team, president of the student body, and pride of any parent..... and entered Washington and Lee with the specific desire to become a bio-chemist.......only to emerge in his senior year as a soulful, pipe-smoking Philosophy major with such a profuse beard that, when we all flew to Houston for your great, great grandmother Bethany's funeral, none of us recognized him (except for Mamaw Mary --- a mother always knows her child) and walked right by him at the Atlanta airport.

How this beard created such consternation for Mamaw Mary at the service, one of her closest friends Katherine Nance, felt compelled to create a conciliatory explanation ---- "You know, all of BeBe's favorite men had a beard. Abraham Lincoln had a beard.....even Jesus had a beard!"

How he and I had a conversation on the plane coming back from Houston (I was a freshman at Furman) where he candidly explained to me that he had changed.....and I naively told him that he needed to understand "we had not."

When I think of Bryant, I remember-

How the steady drip, drip, drip of the Viet Nam war wore on him until he felt compelled to resign from the Navy's Officer candidate program and apply for conscientious objector status....for which he was rejected and so, he enlisted in the Navy and requested to be assigned as hospital corpsman (with a life expectancy of fifteen minutes on the battlefield) so that he could serve in a humanitarian capacity. How his first tour was at Camp LeJeune where he was attached to the marines and was taught Viet Namese.....and his second tour, in Jacksonville. How, in anticipation of being sent to Viet Nam for his third tour, he wrote Granddaddy Schaefer and reiterated his opposition to the war and how, if he were ordered to Viet Nam, he would go to jail instead. His conviction on the issue was solid, but he did not believe in fleeing to Canada, as so many people did to avoid sentencing. Miraculously, he was assigned to New Jersey for his third tour. (I believe it was divine intervention - God knows the sincere heart.)

When I think of Bryant, I remember -

How he left the service and went to Duke University to gain his Doctor of Divinity Degree.

When I think of Bryant, I remember -

How Captain's and my wedding was his first as an officiant..... and he had to suffer with my shoulder-shaking giggles through the recitation of my vows. Unbeknown to Bryant, the week before, Captain insisted that we go over what we were going to pledge to each other. Being a lawyer, Captain wasn't going to say anything he didn't mean. As he perused the words, he came to the phrase "I plight thee my troth....," and he asked me what that meant. I had no idea, so we went to the dictionary, where we found the literal translation of "I pledge thee my fidelity." But, there were additional offerings for derivatives of the phrase, such as "trothplight" which means betrothed, but sounds a little like a witch with a wart on the end of her nose. Captain started calling me "his little trothplight" and I began laughing uncontrollably. Poor Bryant, at our ceremony.....when he asked Captain to look at me and repeat..."And, thereto, I plight thee my troth".....I totally spewed my cookies.....Beyond that point, all I could do was nod my head when Bryant tried to administer my vows with some semblance of decorum.

When I think of Bryant, I remember -

How he grew in his ministry and profession and ended up at Baptist Medical Center in Winston-Salem (now known as Wake Forest) ...... initially as the chaplain to the medical students and ultimately on the academic faculty attached to the Department of Gerontology with an expertise in holistic medicine. At the time of his death, he was administering a grant to study the power of prayer in the healing process.

When I think of Bryant, I remember -

How he salved the wounds of a colleague through intuition and his own special barbecue sauce. (See Thursday, November 6, 2014 - "The Healing Power of Barbecue.")

How he loved music, starting in high school playing the bass in a trio with Paul Surratt and George Wrigley......and continuing until the end in a blue grass band with a group of doctors from Baptist Medical Center.....may the circle be unbroken.

How he enjoyed the annual men's week of trout fishing on the Toe River at the foot of Mt. Mitchell.

How he was intrigued by fishing lures, especially antique ones, and traveled many miles to uncover their secrets and talk to their makers.

And, at last, when I think of Bryant, I remember -

How he found true happiness and meaning to his life when he met and married your Great Aunt Doris. I hope that as you grow older, you will take the time to visit with and get to know her.......for she is the one who can help you understand Great Uncle Bryant at his fullest.