With many a winding turn
That leads us to who knows where
Who knows where
But I'm strong
Strong enough to carry him
He ain't heavy, he's my brother
-- "He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother," The Hollies
The Southwest Airlines jet ought to be somewhere over Illinois right about now -- the one carrying my younger brother Paul. He's heading back to Mansfield, Texas, and to the new life he started there three years ago this June.
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| The Leer men: Paul (right) and me |
If I know Paul, he's wiping a tear from his eyes. Were circumstances different he'd still be in our hometown of Anderson, IN, working a factory job and living a couple of blocks from our parents and just two hours from me.
But as it seldom does, life didn't cooperate. The auto lighting plant where Paul worked closed and he had a decision to make: hope for the best in a city stripped of its manufacturing base, or accept a transfer to a General Motors Corp. truck assembly plant in the Lone Star State. He went back and forth on the decision but, in the end, chose the only sensible option available.
Once again, fate succeeded in separating me from the brother I've never really gotten the opportunity to know.
At 37, Paul is 14 years my junior. Because of the difference in our ages, I've often been going as he's been coming, and vice versa.
When I graduated high school in 1978, he was just preparing to enter kindergarten. As he moved through elementary school in Anderson, I was hundreds of miles away at college. By the time he received his high school diploma and entered adulthood, I was covering business and political news for a newspaper in North Carolina.
My professional travels eventually brought me back to Indiana in early 2000. For eight years Paul and I resided about 70 miles apart as the crow flies. Despite that relatively short distance, we saw each other only on holidays or special occasions. Family and work obligations made more frequent gatherings impossible.
I figured once life slowed down I could finally spend some quality time with my male sibling. Just when that was starting to happen, Paul was uprooted.
Until his visit to Anderson these past five days I hadn't seen Paul since his last trip to Indiana not quite two years ago. He looked like he'd lost a little weight (he probably would beg to differ), and certainly more hair. He gave me a jacket he'd bought in Las Vegas.
Over the course of the next 24 hours we talked sports, the economy, world problems and entertainment in my parent's family room, while Super Bowl preview shows droned on from a large-screen TV. After a Sunday afternoon lunch of takeout Chinese food, I gave him a hug, told him I loved him and wished him a safe trip back to Texas.
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| Godspeed little brother |
"Tell that to the pilot," he deadpanned.
With that, I threw my bag in the car and returned to my somewhat new life in Lafayette.
I'm sure we'll talk by phone or text message soon, but it's a hollow substitute.
Take care, little brother. See you when I see you.
So on we go
His welfare is of my concern
No burden is he to bear
We'll get there
For I know
He would not encumber me
He ain't heavy, he's my brother
I never knew you had a brother, especially that much younger than you. You know, Charlieann and Caleb are 17 years apart, and they don't know each that well either. She was gearing up for her senior year when he was born. That's the hard thing about having kids so far apart in age I guess.
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