A Valentine to my Brothers

“Help your brother’s boat across, and your own will reach the shore.”

– Hindu Proverb

If you were to walk into a roomful of men and try to locate the two who are brothers, mine would be the last match considered. My brother Bobby appears feral. My brother David irons his boxers.

In fact they are remarkably alike.

Nine years apart in age, they grew up in the same home, but with different realities. David was the miracle first born, who navigated dual streams of outsized adoration and the expectations that came with it.

Bobby was the miracle caboose. The delightful little rule-breaker who arrived after our parents had tired of parenting and were inclined to set him free.

The boys grew up to become who they always were--kind and generous and smart, smart, smart.

After a decade following the Grateful Dead tour, Bobby raised his three fabulous kids as a single dad. Parenthood required him to abandon his early life and settle into a grownup job. But Bobby never stopped looking like a concert goer, and has retained his hippie heart.

I hope the Dead are grateful, because my little brother attended nearly 200 of their shows.

Meanwhile, brother David fulfilled our parents’ fondest dream and became a pilot. After serving in the Air Force, he went on to become the captain of a 747. Mom and Dad could barely contain their pride.

On one of David’s trips, a flight attendant came up to the cockpit and mentioned that there was a weird group of musicians in First Class. David poked his head out of the cockpit and spotted Jerry Garcia. In his flight bag, David had a cassette tape that Bobby had given him of a Grateful Dead concert. He got the whole band to sign it for their biggest fan, his kid brother.

To me, the most touching thing about this story is that David had that cassette tape in his flight bag. My brothers are tethered in ways that I envy.

As kids we were silly and scrummy and willful and wild. As adults, I’ve watched my brothers rise together, to rescue friends, watch over our parents and now, honor our elderly uncle, who they take golfing every week when weather allows.

David and Bobby have been there for me when life was low, and the tide was high. I feel safe knowing they are just a phone call or a flight away.

My brothers have each other, and, lucky me, I have them both. It’s easy to forget that sometimes our biggest Valentines are the guys in our family.