Life of Brian

July 23, 1966

“Congratulations Carolyn you have a healthy baby boy.”

“He was supposed to be a girl”

“Do you want me to put him back?”

From the very beginning Brian has had a way of exasperating our mother. Always a nonconformist, even his blond hair and blue eyes were different. Mom thought he was crazy for choosing the cello instead of violin. Surely he would get tired of carrying that big thing back and forth to school every day.

With two older brothers having shattered the restrictive barriers most parents place on their kids it was easy for him to coast through adolescence.   A spoiled brat, he always received everything money could buy. For example, while Bert and I had to be satisfied with Converse Chuck Taylors, Brian always had the latest Athletic shoes from Nike. Skateboards? Ours were a pair of roller skates screwed into the bottom of a piece of plywood. Not Brian’s. His came from a Sporting goods store. Mom wouldn’t even consider letting us have a mini-bike. It’s too dangerous she said. Apparently the risk of driving a motorcycle dropped significantly by the time Brian made his case and got his very own yellow Yamaha beauty.   He eventually rewarded them on that decision the day they greeted the cops in the driveway after they chased him down by driving illegally and escorted him as he pushed his beast of a machine home for all the neighbors to witness.

Brian has always been notoriously laid back but as a kid he was supremely laid back (aka lazy). I’m pretty sure one of the reasons he chose to play the cello was it would guarantee he wouldn’t have to wake up early for MARCHING band. But that plan eventually backfired when Mom made him play in band anyway and he ended up having to carry the Sousaphone.   In addition to playing first chair cello in the school orchestra and Springfield Youth Symphony he also joined the jazz band and learned to play the bass guitar.   He has always been able coast through his musical life on his God given talents with only a modicum amount of effort and practice. Some of us spent hours practicing and still never were any good.   Instead of practicing, Brian would come home after school, grab a bag of chips, and sit in front of the TV all afternoon.   It’s just not fair he got the lion’s share of the musical genes!   His laziness was not only limited to his music practice.   It would manifest itself in other day to day activities.   He didn’t even see fit to occasionally check the oil in his car.   The day his Ford Fiesta took its’ ‘Eternal Siesta’, the autopsy revealed it died b/c there was no oil in the crankcase. Nothing. Bone dry!

I’d like to think Bert and I had some influence on his love of good music at an early age and we also took great pleasure in talking him into things that weren’t exactly “age appropriate”.  When he was in 1^st or 2^nd grade we convinced him that taking a copy of Alice Cooper’s “Killer” record would be perfect for Show-N-Tell. The non-conformist in him just HAD to do it, and he did.

When he was the ripe old age of 11 we convinced Mom and Dad to let him go with us to see Emerson, Lake and Palmer in Kansas City.   Still have vivid memories of us sitting and waiting for hours with our General Admission tickets observing massive wild and illegal behavior followed by the mayhem that ensued when the doors opened.   There was nothing quite like those 70s Rock Shows…. but certainly not suited for an 11 year old.

We can only rib Brian on this day because we have nothing but the greatest respect, love and fond memories as we celebrate this semi-centennial milestone and are proud to call him our brother.

Happy 50^th B-ford