September 20th,
I got a chance to spend time with my eldest brother today. I haven't seen him in a dog's age, both of us usually stationed on opposite sides of the country and so completely overwhelmed by our military responsibilities that we rarely have time to visit.especially Ray, who spends most of his free moments with his family.
His wife Lynn welcomed me into their home in Norfolk with open arms, although I barely had a chance to say 'hello' before I was accosted by his three girls all looking for gifts. Needless to say I didn't disappoint.
"You spoil them, Dashiell." Lynne tsked as she ushered me into the kitchen for a coffee.
"Hey, that's my job, in fact my DUTY as the favorite uncle."
Ray was going to join us later, as he was busy at the base. A naval Captain, he is one of the family's two squids. John is a top gun Commander.a flyboy currently posted to Pensacola, Florida where he is kept busy training new pilots.
I haven't talked much about my family. I guess I'm not altogether sure where to start. In one sense, there isn't much to tell.we are your typical American family.close knit and loyal to a fault. At 33 I am the youngest of four boys.Raymond as mentioned previously is the oldest at 50, then there is Mickey, our resident Jarhead who is 46 and the proud father of twin boys. John is 42 and married with two kids and one on the way.
My mother, Rose Faireborn.nee Jacobs.also comes from a large family. Three sisters, including the irrepressible Aunt Betty, who loves to meddle in everyone's personal life and plays the guilt card like a pro.
My parents were wed in the late 40's after a quick romance and have been married ever since.almost 50 years now! At first the whole relationship was anything but blessed by the two families. Rose is of Jewish extraction while my father is Anglican. Rose's father.my grandfather.who had passed away long before I was born, nearly disowned my mother over the whole affair. In the end Dr Jacobs was all talk and no action.a crotchety old man with a kind heart.
The Faireborns were not thrilled either at first, regardless of the fact that she converted. Mind you, it was all a superficial prejudice.one born of ignorance rather than dislike.and as the two clans got to know each other any hostility soon abated. By the arrival of the first boy all hard feelings were lost and eventually the two families integrated so well that when we all gather together at the annual family reunion it is hard to tell where the Jacobs end and the Faireborns begin.
Strong and able women run both sides of the family. Despite our complete macho, arrogant testosterone charged nature.we are all whipped by the Faireborn and Jacobs females.
My mom is a tiny woman.barely 5 foot 4 inches and slight of build, its hard to imagine her being able to stay sane in a household full of loud, obnoxious boys.all over 6 foot tall.but looks can be deceiving. She ruled the family with an iron fist.even kept my father in line. She expected all her boys to be polite, help around the house, and stay out of trouble. No gender specific division of labor in this household.we all knew how to cook, clean and do our own laundry almost as well as we knew how to run the lawn mower and shovel the walk.
She would never have to raise her voice, only glare at you with her 'death ray' vision and you would be sent running. If she called you by your full name you were a goner!
I remember once when I was younger I decided, in my infinite wisdom, to climb up onto the barn roof with some friends.an activity that was strictly forbidden by my parents. To add to the situation, one of the boys.Paul I think it was.had snatched a pack of his old man's cigarettes and of course, being curious and stupid.we all decided to choke back a smoke.
Well.we had just begun to relax our guard when one of the others spotted my parent's car pulling into the driveway.
So what did I do? Rather than face my mother.who would certainly skin me alive.I took off with the others as fast as I could. Of course, in my panic I failed to watch where I was going and ended up falling off the damn barn and breaking my arm in the process.
There I was, in shock, the breath knocked right out of me, my arm at an odd angle at my side with my parents hanging over me, my mother holding a pack of cigarettes in her hand and eyeing the butt that had fallen from my grasp on the way down, landing conveniently near my prostrate form.
I think my arm was less painful than the month long grounding that I had to endure!
I could tell you that I had learned my lesson.but I think most of my young adult life was spent getting in and out of trouble.
.or butting heads with my dad.
Ah.my father.the great Colonel David Faireborn.a man of few words but great presence. Intelligent and powerful, handsome even now in his early seventies.when he was younger he and his brother Robert were the most popular boys in town. Both served their country as army officers during World War II, fighting side by side in the European theatre.and then the war in the Pacific where my Uncle Robert made the ultimate sacrifice at Iwo Jima.
I don't think my father ever recovered from that war. He returned to Wichita a changed man. My mother and his sisters did much to draw him out of his shell, but still it haunts him. He is a hard ass.tough as nails but with a good heart deep down under all the bluster. He was strict but fair.and set the bar quite high for his boys, expecting no less than excellence from all of us. Mind you, the man who raised me was different from the one my brothers all remembered. I was just unlucky enough to come along at the wrong time. As Leo Tolstoy once wrote, 'All happy families resemble one another, each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.' Every family has its skeletons.every family has its down times and tragedies. This is ours. I am actually the fifth child.not the fourth. I had an older brother.Thomas Faireborn.who I have never met. My brothers all knew and loved him. He was the golden child.the apple of my mother's eye and my father's pride and joy.
Barely out of West Point when the he was called out to serve his country in 'Nam, Tom was one of the first American's to fall in that long and terrible war.
My mother was inconsolable.my father.well.my father was devastated. War had taken his brother and now it had claimed his firstborn son. You would think it would have helped that about a month after the funeral at Arlington my mother discovered she was pregnant again.with me.
It didn't.
My whole life I had to compete with the memory of Tom. To make matters worse, I looked just like him and as I grew up I came to resemble him more and more. For my parents it was like seeing a ghost.a living, breathing reminder of what they had lost. The thing is, in my father's eyes I wasn't as tough, I wasn't as strong. I was different. I was quiet and liked to read. I was too smart.wise way beyond my years and although he never said anything I think it scared him a bit. I know it freaked my mother out.
But mostly.I just wasn't Tom.
It was never said to me directly.my father is a hard man, but he isn't cruel. He does love his boys and I think he loves me too. It doesn't matter, though.I knew I disappointed him. I felt it. And it killed me.
My father is like me.or I am like my father. We keep our emotions in check; we present a strong front to the outside world even if we are dying on the inside. We are proud and stubborn.foolish in a way. Despite his loss, my father watched as Ray and then Mickey both made their way to Vietnam as they turned 18 and didn't so much as bat an eye. In his mind it was their duty.they were soldiers, as all Faireborns were before them. They would serve, and if it were so dictated, they would die for their country. My mother was less patriotic about the whole thing but could not dissuade either of her boys. She was strong though.she held up through it all and managed to make it through the pain.
However, you never get over the loss of a child. Memories of Tom continue to haunt them to this day. So much so that we hardly speak of him, and if we do it is in hushed tones so as to not upset my father. Sometimes I even forget he existed, if it weren't for my brothers keeping his memory alive I would hardly know him.
They tell me he would have liked me. That I am actually like him in many ways.the 'spitting image' as Aunt Betty likes to say.
I should think so. For years I molded myself to his image.to be the son my father so longed for.to bring Tom back to him. No matter what I did, it was never good enough. So much so that in the end I pretty much gave up and rebelled.becoming the trouble making teen who drove my parents to distraction.
Even now when I am home visiting I feel as though I have failed him in some way. Even though he knows what I do for a living, knows that I am a top member of an elite team despite the fact that the Joe is secret (my father is well connected in the military), he still finds something to needle me about, whether it is my rank or my personal life.
Ah yes, my personal life.the source of much debate and concern amongst my family. I am the only one still unmarried, although I tried that once.to say that it was an utter failure would be a laughable understatement. I don't share that side of my life with my family, and although Marvin let slip to John about Lady Jaye a couple of years ago, I have sworn him to secrecy and so far he has been true to his word.
The rest of my family doesn't know, and I would like to keep it that way.
It's not that I am ashamed of Alison. Far from it! Nor am I ashamed of my family.although I dread to think of what little quip my father will come up if I ever introduce them. He rarely likes anyone I bring home, not that I have brought many to meet them. He certainly disliked Karen. He will probably relegate Allie to the 'snobby East Coast WASP' category and write her off. He has no patience for the moneyed class, thinks they are a bunch of lazy, self-important cowards. The fact that Allie's family is also a rank and file member of British aristocracy.albeit a minor one.would just add fuel to the fire.
It's a weak excuse, I know. If anything it's all in my head, a result of one of my antiquated 'rules of dating'. I think it is number two or three.just before the car shopping taboo and right after the moratorium on using the word 'love' in any conversation.
"Thou shalt not take her home to meet thy parents nor shalt thou go and meet hers"
Ah, the life of an avowed commitment-phobic, or at least a reformed commitment phobic! The woman has slowly chipped away at my 'Ten Commandments of Dating' one by one.
In any case, that's my family, take 'em or leave 'em. Despite everything I wouldn't change them for the world. Not a one.not even my father. As Evelyn Waugh once observed you should not hold your parents up to contempt. 'After all, you are their son, and it is just possible you may take after them'.
As for my brothers, I would have to say I am closest with John, who is nearest to me in age and who was home when I was growing up. Everyone loves Mickey, its hard not to.he is just a very kind hearted, easygoing guy. Ray and I are so far apart in age that we might as well be on different planets.but nevertheless we are brothers and look out for each other as such.
We all look out for each other. We are close in a way that transcends friendship or blood. In the end, who is it that knows you, truly understands you, better than your brothers. As someone once told me, they are 'the only people in the world who know what it's like to have been brought up the way you were'.
Anyhow.back to the present.
I sat a while with Lynn.sipping on some coffee and bringing her up to date with my comings and goings. Ray's wife is a lovely woman. His high school sweetheart, they have been together as long as I can remember. God.she bloody babysat me while I was still in diapers! She knows me pretty well, as well as any other member of my family. Maybe better.
At least well enough to start pestering me about settling down. She merely smiled at my attempts to change the subject.
"I can't wait to meet her."
"There is no one to meet."
"Yeah, right." She turned as her husband came through the door "Raymond, Sweetheart.I think little Dashy here has got himself a new flame"
"So, what else is new?'
"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that." I moaned dramatically as I got up and embraced my brother. "Tell your wife to quit badgering me."
"I will.as soon as I figure out how to get her to quit badgering ME."
"It'll never happen." She smiled as she turned to leave us alone to catch up, "When are you boys going to learn that it is your fate as Faireborn males to be ruled by women?"
"In my case.four" he indicated to his girls who were sitting in front of the TV watching a movie. "Come on, Dash.let's get out of here and grab a beer before we drown in estrogen."
I had a good time with him, catching up on the family news and reminiscing on old times. It wasn't long, though, before I had to make my excuses. I was only in Norfolk for the evening and was heading out with Wild Bill at first light. It was a standard supply run, and seeing Lift Ticket was away on leave I was volunteered for the job. It's not very glamorous but these things have to get done.
Seeing Ray and his family always gets me to thinking about home. While I always look forward to heading back to visit the folks in Wichita, I can't say that I feel like it is my home anymore. Not that I don't feel welcome...its just that a man needs to establish his own little nest after a certain age. My brothers all did it...they all have homes of their own now.
So, that begs the question 'where is my home?' Oxford was fun but not permanent in any sense of the word. I lived in California for a while but that period in my life has been erased from my memory. The army moves you around from base to base so often that sometimes it seems a waste of time to bother unpacking. You get used to it, but at the same time you yearn for a place to hang your hat.
One thing you do discover in the military, though, is that it's not the place that matters.it is that you are with your friends and family. The latter is more 'home' than any fixed address.
Marvin, Conrad, Snakes, Scarlett.the Joes are like family.and Jaye.Allie.when I am with her I am home.
"Where we love is home, home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts."
God...you have it bad Flint. What the hell are you going to do about it?
What I always do...nothing.
Coward!
Or better yet, in the words of my favorite uncle, Frank...
"What a schmuck!"
I got a chance to spend time with my eldest brother today. I haven't seen him in a dog's age, both of us usually stationed on opposite sides of the country and so completely overwhelmed by our military responsibilities that we rarely have time to visit.especially Ray, who spends most of his free moments with his family.
His wife Lynn welcomed me into their home in Norfolk with open arms, although I barely had a chance to say 'hello' before I was accosted by his three girls all looking for gifts. Needless to say I didn't disappoint.
"You spoil them, Dashiell." Lynne tsked as she ushered me into the kitchen for a coffee.
"Hey, that's my job, in fact my DUTY as the favorite uncle."
Ray was going to join us later, as he was busy at the base. A naval Captain, he is one of the family's two squids. John is a top gun Commander.a flyboy currently posted to Pensacola, Florida where he is kept busy training new pilots.
I haven't talked much about my family. I guess I'm not altogether sure where to start. In one sense, there isn't much to tell.we are your typical American family.close knit and loyal to a fault. At 33 I am the youngest of four boys.Raymond as mentioned previously is the oldest at 50, then there is Mickey, our resident Jarhead who is 46 and the proud father of twin boys. John is 42 and married with two kids and one on the way.
My mother, Rose Faireborn.nee Jacobs.also comes from a large family. Three sisters, including the irrepressible Aunt Betty, who loves to meddle in everyone's personal life and plays the guilt card like a pro.
My parents were wed in the late 40's after a quick romance and have been married ever since.almost 50 years now! At first the whole relationship was anything but blessed by the two families. Rose is of Jewish extraction while my father is Anglican. Rose's father.my grandfather.who had passed away long before I was born, nearly disowned my mother over the whole affair. In the end Dr Jacobs was all talk and no action.a crotchety old man with a kind heart.
The Faireborns were not thrilled either at first, regardless of the fact that she converted. Mind you, it was all a superficial prejudice.one born of ignorance rather than dislike.and as the two clans got to know each other any hostility soon abated. By the arrival of the first boy all hard feelings were lost and eventually the two families integrated so well that when we all gather together at the annual family reunion it is hard to tell where the Jacobs end and the Faireborns begin.
Strong and able women run both sides of the family. Despite our complete macho, arrogant testosterone charged nature.we are all whipped by the Faireborn and Jacobs females.
My mom is a tiny woman.barely 5 foot 4 inches and slight of build, its hard to imagine her being able to stay sane in a household full of loud, obnoxious boys.all over 6 foot tall.but looks can be deceiving. She ruled the family with an iron fist.even kept my father in line. She expected all her boys to be polite, help around the house, and stay out of trouble. No gender specific division of labor in this household.we all knew how to cook, clean and do our own laundry almost as well as we knew how to run the lawn mower and shovel the walk.
She would never have to raise her voice, only glare at you with her 'death ray' vision and you would be sent running. If she called you by your full name you were a goner!
I remember once when I was younger I decided, in my infinite wisdom, to climb up onto the barn roof with some friends.an activity that was strictly forbidden by my parents. To add to the situation, one of the boys.Paul I think it was.had snatched a pack of his old man's cigarettes and of course, being curious and stupid.we all decided to choke back a smoke.
Well.we had just begun to relax our guard when one of the others spotted my parent's car pulling into the driveway.
So what did I do? Rather than face my mother.who would certainly skin me alive.I took off with the others as fast as I could. Of course, in my panic I failed to watch where I was going and ended up falling off the damn barn and breaking my arm in the process.
There I was, in shock, the breath knocked right out of me, my arm at an odd angle at my side with my parents hanging over me, my mother holding a pack of cigarettes in her hand and eyeing the butt that had fallen from my grasp on the way down, landing conveniently near my prostrate form.
I think my arm was less painful than the month long grounding that I had to endure!
I could tell you that I had learned my lesson.but I think most of my young adult life was spent getting in and out of trouble.
.or butting heads with my dad.
Ah.my father.the great Colonel David Faireborn.a man of few words but great presence. Intelligent and powerful, handsome even now in his early seventies.when he was younger he and his brother Robert were the most popular boys in town. Both served their country as army officers during World War II, fighting side by side in the European theatre.and then the war in the Pacific where my Uncle Robert made the ultimate sacrifice at Iwo Jima.
I don't think my father ever recovered from that war. He returned to Wichita a changed man. My mother and his sisters did much to draw him out of his shell, but still it haunts him. He is a hard ass.tough as nails but with a good heart deep down under all the bluster. He was strict but fair.and set the bar quite high for his boys, expecting no less than excellence from all of us. Mind you, the man who raised me was different from the one my brothers all remembered. I was just unlucky enough to come along at the wrong time. As Leo Tolstoy once wrote, 'All happy families resemble one another, each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.' Every family has its skeletons.every family has its down times and tragedies. This is ours. I am actually the fifth child.not the fourth. I had an older brother.Thomas Faireborn.who I have never met. My brothers all knew and loved him. He was the golden child.the apple of my mother's eye and my father's pride and joy.
Barely out of West Point when the he was called out to serve his country in 'Nam, Tom was one of the first American's to fall in that long and terrible war.
My mother was inconsolable.my father.well.my father was devastated. War had taken his brother and now it had claimed his firstborn son. You would think it would have helped that about a month after the funeral at Arlington my mother discovered she was pregnant again.with me.
It didn't.
My whole life I had to compete with the memory of Tom. To make matters worse, I looked just like him and as I grew up I came to resemble him more and more. For my parents it was like seeing a ghost.a living, breathing reminder of what they had lost. The thing is, in my father's eyes I wasn't as tough, I wasn't as strong. I was different. I was quiet and liked to read. I was too smart.wise way beyond my years and although he never said anything I think it scared him a bit. I know it freaked my mother out.
But mostly.I just wasn't Tom.
It was never said to me directly.my father is a hard man, but he isn't cruel. He does love his boys and I think he loves me too. It doesn't matter, though.I knew I disappointed him. I felt it. And it killed me.
My father is like me.or I am like my father. We keep our emotions in check; we present a strong front to the outside world even if we are dying on the inside. We are proud and stubborn.foolish in a way. Despite his loss, my father watched as Ray and then Mickey both made their way to Vietnam as they turned 18 and didn't so much as bat an eye. In his mind it was their duty.they were soldiers, as all Faireborns were before them. They would serve, and if it were so dictated, they would die for their country. My mother was less patriotic about the whole thing but could not dissuade either of her boys. She was strong though.she held up through it all and managed to make it through the pain.
However, you never get over the loss of a child. Memories of Tom continue to haunt them to this day. So much so that we hardly speak of him, and if we do it is in hushed tones so as to not upset my father. Sometimes I even forget he existed, if it weren't for my brothers keeping his memory alive I would hardly know him.
They tell me he would have liked me. That I am actually like him in many ways.the 'spitting image' as Aunt Betty likes to say.
I should think so. For years I molded myself to his image.to be the son my father so longed for.to bring Tom back to him. No matter what I did, it was never good enough. So much so that in the end I pretty much gave up and rebelled.becoming the trouble making teen who drove my parents to distraction.
Even now when I am home visiting I feel as though I have failed him in some way. Even though he knows what I do for a living, knows that I am a top member of an elite team despite the fact that the Joe is secret (my father is well connected in the military), he still finds something to needle me about, whether it is my rank or my personal life.
Ah yes, my personal life.the source of much debate and concern amongst my family. I am the only one still unmarried, although I tried that once.to say that it was an utter failure would be a laughable understatement. I don't share that side of my life with my family, and although Marvin let slip to John about Lady Jaye a couple of years ago, I have sworn him to secrecy and so far he has been true to his word.
The rest of my family doesn't know, and I would like to keep it that way.
It's not that I am ashamed of Alison. Far from it! Nor am I ashamed of my family.although I dread to think of what little quip my father will come up if I ever introduce them. He rarely likes anyone I bring home, not that I have brought many to meet them. He certainly disliked Karen. He will probably relegate Allie to the 'snobby East Coast WASP' category and write her off. He has no patience for the moneyed class, thinks they are a bunch of lazy, self-important cowards. The fact that Allie's family is also a rank and file member of British aristocracy.albeit a minor one.would just add fuel to the fire.
It's a weak excuse, I know. If anything it's all in my head, a result of one of my antiquated 'rules of dating'. I think it is number two or three.just before the car shopping taboo and right after the moratorium on using the word 'love' in any conversation.
"Thou shalt not take her home to meet thy parents nor shalt thou go and meet hers"
Ah, the life of an avowed commitment-phobic, or at least a reformed commitment phobic! The woman has slowly chipped away at my 'Ten Commandments of Dating' one by one.
In any case, that's my family, take 'em or leave 'em. Despite everything I wouldn't change them for the world. Not a one.not even my father. As Evelyn Waugh once observed you should not hold your parents up to contempt. 'After all, you are their son, and it is just possible you may take after them'.
As for my brothers, I would have to say I am closest with John, who is nearest to me in age and who was home when I was growing up. Everyone loves Mickey, its hard not to.he is just a very kind hearted, easygoing guy. Ray and I are so far apart in age that we might as well be on different planets.but nevertheless we are brothers and look out for each other as such.
We all look out for each other. We are close in a way that transcends friendship or blood. In the end, who is it that knows you, truly understands you, better than your brothers. As someone once told me, they are 'the only people in the world who know what it's like to have been brought up the way you were'.
Anyhow.back to the present.
I sat a while with Lynn.sipping on some coffee and bringing her up to date with my comings and goings. Ray's wife is a lovely woman. His high school sweetheart, they have been together as long as I can remember. God.she bloody babysat me while I was still in diapers! She knows me pretty well, as well as any other member of my family. Maybe better.
At least well enough to start pestering me about settling down. She merely smiled at my attempts to change the subject.
"I can't wait to meet her."
"There is no one to meet."
"Yeah, right." She turned as her husband came through the door "Raymond, Sweetheart.I think little Dashy here has got himself a new flame"
"So, what else is new?'
"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that." I moaned dramatically as I got up and embraced my brother. "Tell your wife to quit badgering me."
"I will.as soon as I figure out how to get her to quit badgering ME."
"It'll never happen." She smiled as she turned to leave us alone to catch up, "When are you boys going to learn that it is your fate as Faireborn males to be ruled by women?"
"In my case.four" he indicated to his girls who were sitting in front of the TV watching a movie. "Come on, Dash.let's get out of here and grab a beer before we drown in estrogen."
I had a good time with him, catching up on the family news and reminiscing on old times. It wasn't long, though, before I had to make my excuses. I was only in Norfolk for the evening and was heading out with Wild Bill at first light. It was a standard supply run, and seeing Lift Ticket was away on leave I was volunteered for the job. It's not very glamorous but these things have to get done.
Seeing Ray and his family always gets me to thinking about home. While I always look forward to heading back to visit the folks in Wichita, I can't say that I feel like it is my home anymore. Not that I don't feel welcome...its just that a man needs to establish his own little nest after a certain age. My brothers all did it...they all have homes of their own now.
So, that begs the question 'where is my home?' Oxford was fun but not permanent in any sense of the word. I lived in California for a while but that period in my life has been erased from my memory. The army moves you around from base to base so often that sometimes it seems a waste of time to bother unpacking. You get used to it, but at the same time you yearn for a place to hang your hat.
One thing you do discover in the military, though, is that it's not the place that matters.it is that you are with your friends and family. The latter is more 'home' than any fixed address.
Marvin, Conrad, Snakes, Scarlett.the Joes are like family.and Jaye.Allie.when I am with her I am home.
"Where we love is home, home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts."
God...you have it bad Flint. What the hell are you going to do about it?
What I always do...nothing.
Coward!
Or better yet, in the words of my favorite uncle, Frank...
"What a schmuck!"