My Brother Calls Me Late at Night
March 17th, 2010
In 1981 my parents split up, and within a year they both came out of the closet. I was ten, my brother five. He’d turn out to be the only straight one among us. Like all families we had other dynamics at work beyond sexuality, which pushed him off to the side, where he grew up the black sheep scape goat, a boy with a keen sensitivity to injustice. Sometimes he calls me from New Mexico late at night, after his wife and baby girl are asleep, because something in the world has gone wrong. He called me when Prop 8 passed, and when he’d come home from seeing MILK. Last night he called me and told me he had a dilemma. Fred Phelps was on his way to the Supreme Court. Phelps and his nutjob family had taken to picketing the military funerals of American soldiers, claiming that God was punishing the US for tolerating homosexuals. They’d picketed the funeral of my brother’s old roommate, who’d been killed by a sniper in Iraq. At first I thought he was upset about his roommate, but it turned out he was angrier at the timing. “He’s been picketing gays for years and years, and it’s only now that other people are getting involved? So dead fag funerals are okay to picket, but dead soldier funerals aren’t?” His dilemma, he said, was that he believed in free speech, and part of him thought that Phelps should be allowed to do what he wanted. My brother wanted an answer from me, but I had none to give. I told him I had divided parts inside me, too. We talked about the futility of caring about matters of right and wrong, and I told him that most days it’s all I can do to focus on my little life, to try and do good work, and surround myself with good people. He talked about his daughter then, his love and his worries for her, and I thought how lucky I was to have this brother, this man who as a little boy could have gone in other directions, a boy who could have grown up bitter and full of hate, instead of the boy who grew up to be a man with a heart big enough to break.
I know this somes stupid, but you have a really awesome brother. My siblings are older and would never dare bring up anything gay because it still makes them uncomfortable.
With each passing year I appreciate him more and more. My book is dedicated to him.
Over the years I have contemplated my childhood best friend, your brother, and the impact your family has had on me without even knowing. It sounds like your brother and I ended up with similar concerns and morals. I have many people to thank for shaping what I believe today, including your family. There is more I would say, but I feel like I should compile it a little better.
Michael,
Thanks for another wonderful post. I so emjoy reading your work. You have a gifted way with words and they seem to flow from you, no matter what you write about. You make it look so easy. I certainly appreciate your talents and look forward to your book.
Your bother sounds like a great human being!
It is so good to see your posts again. And to meet your brother through your post. I hope to meet him him in person eventually.