letter to my brother

Thirty years come tomorrow,
We always say “December 7th, 1976—a day that will live in infamy”
Just joking but the day is memorable just the same.
I remember a December snowstorm, Dad putting the suitcase in the car,
I think he was still driving the Firebird.
Or did he already sell it to Rusty’s buddy?
No, Firebird—red with a firebird logo on the hood,
Dad had to sell it to get a more family-friendly ride,
And also to take over grandpa’s car payments.
Grandpa died the fall after you were born,
Dad refused to let the loan company take the Buick,
Orange with tan tonneau ugly thing but grandpa’s.
Rusty would end up buying that car from dad,
When he opted for a K-Car station wagon,
Color wasn’t much better but new is new.
Uncle D picked me up at the hospital,
Then it was South Macomb now its St. John’s,
Twelve mile and Hoover.
I spent that snowy December night at Uncle D’s,
At their big house on Glenwood,
Just south of 7 Mile, just east of Hayes.
That big old house was our second home,
I can remember the summers spent there,
Family functions playing stick ball in the alley.
Dumpster –diving for treasures in that same alley,
Football games against the Jewish kids down the block,
Baseball games at Columbus Junior High’s gravel field.
Grandpa’s old brown rusted Dodge Duster parked out front,
Bri would end up painting that thing a shite brown,
With a paint roller, still trying to figure out why.
Bri and Matty busted out WWII model airplanes,
We stayed up all night waiting for you to make your entry,
Not sure where they got those but I ended up with them all.
Bri gave me that thick blue book you always saw me reading,
A history of WWII in photos and text,
Thirty years after the fact, in 1976.
It seemed like it was lifetimes removed from 1946 . . .
Long before any of us were born,
But now it’s been thirty years that you’ve been alive.
Seems like just yesterday or the day before that,
Doesn’t seem all that long ago to me at all,
Grandpa has passed, Rusty is gone, Rusty’s son is gone,
Uncles D and T both are now gone,
Several of the great-uncles have walked on as well.
They were war veterans fighting and surviving in the Pacific,
They were young men younger than either of us are now,
And they’ve lived through so much over these last 60 years.
Cultural, social upheavals and the loss of so many loved ones,
Thirty years from now, will you and I look back on our lives,
And feel proud of our accomplishments, proud of our progeny?
I never talked to the uncles about their lives, their experiences,
Never thanked them for their service to their country, community, family.
Our lives have been relatively quiet by comparison,
Our struggles have been largely personal or familial,
We’re post-war babies dealing with the more mundane.
Amer(Indian)-Asian kids trying to deal with the aftermath,
Of a war we were never part of or really understood,
We didn’t choose to be born when and where we were.
You and I understand that it is really all the same,
We never saw clear-cut distinctions between race and class,
Outsiders from the day that we were born,
But we represent something new and perhaps scary.
The same human family the same thoughts and feelings,
We are all survivors, all six billion plus on this planet,
All part of the divine creation, eyes and ears and senses,
All five, six senses of the creation, all of us, all of the time.
Someone asked me “where is the Internet?”
It almost sounds like a Zen koan for the 21st century,
The Net is everywhere, it is the totality of all these connections,
Throughout the world—the backbones, servers and specific ports.
We can choose to take the long view or the short view,
Depending on what you are looking for, Depending on what you hope to find.
The short view is that our father was born and raised in Detroit,
The son of parents who were Mohawk/Polish,
(still not sure about the whole Polish connection . . .),
Father who was from Tyendinaga, Grandfather from Akwesasne,
Descendents of the original Tyendinaga, Veterans of the French and Indian Wars,
The Revolutionary War, the War of 1812, The First World War, The Second World War,
By-products of the Vietnam War.
Our mother was born Isaan in northeastern Thailand,
Ethnically Lao but born/raised in Thailand,
Some one trekked across the Mekong River at some point,
Did they precede the Thai tribes in the region?
Were they pushed into the area by the Mongol Hordes?
Were they part of the Mon-Khmer empires?
The long view is that you and I and everyone shares,
Is part of the history of the entire human race,
That the only true boundaries are the ones we erect,
That we are all manifestations of the godhead.
We have our physical, mental limitations of course,
But we are much more than what we allow ourselves to be,
It makes us no better or no worse than anyone else,
The lowliest of sinners, the saintliest of the saints.
I have expressed a desire to be more positive,
To be and do good in a universe that allows for whatever,
Morally what I do to others I ultimately do to mySelf.
So that is my intention, my stand, what I hope to achieve,
I love my family as well you know, perhaps there are things that I do not like,
But I cannot dwell on things I cannot change.
I am proud and grateful for my birth and my family,
For my grandfathers, grandmothers, great-aunts and uncles,
Proud and happy that you are my brother.
My little baby-brother Jay-way that paved the way
For me to become a good father to my own children,
That taught me to love and care for something beyond mySelf.
My every day struggles remain the same,
Putting up with the co-workers, dealing with the monotony of work,
Cleaning the house, doing the dishes, doing the laundry, changing the cat litter.
At these times it is easier to be the thing that you are doing,
It’s not Tony or Jay cleaning the house, Cleaning the house is all there is,
To put your Self into the mix is to muddy it.
And there are other times that insist on your absolute presence,
Being with those that you love, speaking honestly
And openly about things of great importance to you.
Choose your own path brother, go boldly into the tomorrow that you wish to live,
Be your own guide and mentor.
Live and love each and everyday, for in the end what do we have,
What can we accomplish on this plane of existence?
To live and to experience the freshness of each new day,
To embrace the good with the bad and to persevere,
Despite all our problems, despite ourSelves.
Do not hate or regret those things in life that give you pause,
These things are destructive to you and to others,
State your case and let them go, and go on living and learning and growing.
Thirty years you have been my brother,
Thirty more and thirty after that I look forward to,
We are free to be what we want to be, the only thing holding us back is us,
The long view and the short view, both have their place.
Life is full of paradox and pain, happiness and joy,
I hope the rest of your days are filled with a little of everything,
I hope that you find what it is that you seek.
To live, to love, to be happy-
Those are the only things we can hope to achieve.
All else is just illusion, all else is meaningless.
Happy thirtieth birthday, my brother,
Treat yourSelf well on this day,
The day we welcomed you into this world,
Oh so long oh so soon ago,
Welcome to your world.