THE LAST AMONG BROTHERS

Last night, as I was walking in the wee hours of the morning, it occurred to me that I am the last among brothers.

You see, yesterday, as I was reading a couple of unread messages on a social media site, I noticed a familiar name. I attended church with Donna a full half century ago. She had seen a post in which I mentioned my friendship with Sam and Anita J., and in which I expressed my wonderment about where they were today.

Following is her cryptic message to me.

“In regard to your question, Bill, I’m sorry to tell you that Sam passed away a few years ago, and Anita is now attending a different church.”

You could have knocked me down with a feather. You see, my (then) wife and I befriended this dear black couple when my active duty tour in the Air Force concluded, and we moved from Florida to Virginia. I say we befriended them. Perhaps it was the other way around.

There are those people with whom you just click, and you feel you have known all your life. Sam was one of them. Another member of our church with whom I bonded right away was Bill.

Sam was an encourager, empathetic and given to humor. Bill was a bit more solemn, reflective, and not nearly as outgoing. But they both knew how to be friends, and were.

A couple years later, we moved to Alabama, and one day we received a letter from Marie. Bill had contracted cancer, and ironically enough, Sam’s wife, Anita, an R.N., cared for him in the hospital prior to his passing.

Is it possible that almost five decades have come and gone since Bill left us?

Speaking of Bill, we were traveling together somewhere once, and “just out of the blue,” he said, “I wonder what would happen to Marie if I died young?” I can only think of his question that day as a premonition.



Pt. 2


Then, there was another band of brothers of which I was a part.

Sam and Bob were my section officer and section NCO in my National Guard unit in central Florida. Our three man personnel team were attached to Second Battalion, 116^th Field Artillery. We were tasked with visiting one of the five subordinate units of the battalion on a rotating monthly basis; where we performed personnel records checks.

Sam was a warrant officer, but he never put himself out as any different, or any better than his two subordinates. He had a dry sense of humor. I remember once that he told someone he was from South America, and when the guardsman asked, “Where at in South America?” Sam responded, “Alabama. You know South America!”

And then there was Bob. Bob was from New Jersey, and he often mentioned “going down to the shore” when he was young. I recall the day when he was ahead of me in the breakfast chow line, and looking at the mess sergeant, he said, “I’ll have a grit. Give me one grit.”

Our team served together for about fifteen years. As the three of us were all nearing our retirement with the National Guard, we received an invitation, yes, an invitation to take part in “Operation Desert Storm.” Need I mention we all declined the invitation?

However, we received one final call to duty we couldn’t refuse. After Hurricane Andrew our unit was summoned to Homestead, Florida, where over four hundred of us, along with 35,000 other reserve and active duty troops, lived in tents, and served the people of south Florida in various capacities. Our particular unit was there forty days.

Bob was first. He went on to his reward at the age of 59, as the result of a heart attack; one year before his reserve retirement was scheduled to begin. Sam “answered the call to (his heavenly) duty” a few years ago. In each case, I was shocked to receive the news of their respective passing.

They were good friends, and I am poorer for their absence in my life.


Afterward


Two Sam’s, a Bill and a Bob

I could not have asked for better friends in this or any other universe.

Two bands of brothers of which I was privileged to have been included. And I am the last among brothers.

I am reminded of the closing lines in the movie, “The Green Mile.”

“I think about all the people I’ve loved; now long gone. I think about all of us walking our own Green Mile; each in our own time.

“But sometimes, oh God, the Green Mile is so long.”

By William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending