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Another Brother, Greg


Greg is my younger brother but the oldest of my siblings.  The mellow one on the left.  I spent most of my time as a child with him.  He was always with me and my dad.  He was a rambunctious little man.  He was a charmer, athletic, stubborn, happy, and risky.  I cherish our trips despite being a teenager when he was a kid and not being mature enough to know to play with him.  He grew up to be a cool kid.  He grew to be the cool kid in the stereotypical ways and deeper soulful ways.  I remember him being a sharp dresser, a clean look, a stylish appearance...I think he still demonstrates this.  He was an exceptionally hard worker.  He drilled constantly with my dad and had a confidence on the court that I never came close to achieving.  He would shoot like if it was the only and right thing to do.  I wonder how my involvement in his life has influenced him.

I was equally trying to maintain a stylish and trendy upkeep during our younger years, and lost opportunities to be a brother, in favor of a fan.  I remember even admiring and modeling myself after some of the traits he carried.  I gotta say my brother Greg is a cool cat.  I have not had the chance to share deeply with him and guess the stylish facade brings with it an elusive doorway to the soul.  I desire a deeper loving relationship with Greg and accept that we might be more good friends than those brothers who cry on shoulders.  I think Greg and I are more alike than different.  He has a temper as I have had.  He has his beliefs and his independent ways.  He can boil and be cool as the other side of the pillow, all this being said about man I don't really know.

I love him in way that has taught me to seize moments and make them lasting.  I tell him I love every time I see him.  I see the worry in his face as he struggles through the reality of being a single father.  I dream of having Saturday barbecues with our wives and little ones running around.  Our lives and our insecurities have created wonderful moments of brief yet inspiring visits that last only hours.  He is a rebel without even desiring to be one.  He is a charming boy running full throttle in a father's mindset.  I tread lightly saying this but I feel he has more shadow revealed than myself or Pete.  I see so much of my dad in him.  I have recently trusted that he is a scrapper.  He might be the most street intelligent out of the three of us.  He tells a funny story and laughs a good laugh.

There are regrets and guilt for being possibly being a reckless and insecure influence on Greg, but more significant is the longing to be a strong presence now.  I think pondering regret would only remind me of the sadness for who I was.  I am reminded of what I can do now, as a token of hope.  I am trying to be a concrete brother.  I am learning to love in way we were never shown, that maybe it might catch like wild fire and warm his heart and unleash more of the charisma that he has exemplified over the years.  He is my brother.  Happy Birthday Greg.

Immigrating Without Borders

      I immigrated from Albuquerque’s city life to a quieter Santa Fe.  Santa Fe is 50 some odd miles north of Albuquerque along the Camino ...