It's hard to tell about a person from when they're young. You just never know how life will shape them, or what they can do.
Sometimes though, you see glimpses of greatness.
My little brother Paul was the fourth born in our family - just in time for Christmas 1974. He made a lovely baby Jesus that year, while Michael was Joseph, I was Mary, and Peter was a proud shepherd (and a tired one - when did they get us up for that picture? 6am???)
He was a happy and easygoing kid, always positive and good fun to spend time with. He encapsulated the 'nerd' vibe in our family, entering the Science Bowl in middle school, so I was pretty sure he was going to grow up to be a science teacher or something like that. I didn't expect much. I mean, he was just Paul. My cheerful little brother.
But there was something more in him, and I first saw signs of it during a church activity - I believe it was one of the first ones he ever went to as a teenager.
He'd just turned 12, and our church was going to dance for charity. They were sponsoring a dance contest that was literally going to last all night long, from 6pm to 6am, or until there was a last person standing.
All night long? Were you kidding me? I was so excited, and as soon as the dance started, myself and everyone else took off, dancing with all our might. Dancing all night! I can totally do this!
I looked over at Paul whilst I lost myself in whirling dervish mode.
What was he doing?
He did this measly little side-to-side dance step. I kept looking at him like, what are you doing boy? We're here all night - we can LET LOOSE! I danced even harder.
He just stepped from side to side with the music. The same simple step, over and over again.
As time wore on, kids started dropping. Midnight came, then 1am, then 2am.
All night turned out to be a really long time. The enthusiastic dancing slowed, until we were swaying and dead on our feet, wishing we could stop and just sleep.
But if we did...that was it. We were out.
What was at once exciting and amazing suddenly became something of a Red Shoes experience - dance monkeys dance, or face the consequences!
Out of the corner of my drooping eyes at 3am...there was my little brother Paul. Stepping from side to side, not stopping. My rabbit approach to winning the race did not serve me as well as the tortoise approach was serving him.
Guess who won the contest?
And I remember thinking to myself, "Paul? Hmmmm..."
Since then, he developed himself into a handsome looker of a kid,
was the romantic hero of the theater in high school,
served his mission in Brazil,
graduated with his bachelor's and master's degree (the first of us to accomplish that particular feat), married the brilliant Sarah M. Eden (writer of terrific historical fiction),
had a couple of equally brilliant children,
got his black belt in Tae Kwon Do around the same time I did,
became a head web developer at Brigham Young University (who saved our butts several times when we were trying to install software and other such things),
and most recently, managed to audition for and win a spot in the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.
His slow-burn approach has served him well over the years. A genius in the family, and I knew it since he was twelve. So proud of my little bro!
Monday, November 14, 2016
Sunday, November 6, 2016
Family Story - Favorite Memories of Peter
With my little brother Peter, born right after me, life started to get intense.
I'd been able to hold my own with my big brother up until then, but now I was outnumbered in the sibling department. A circumstance I would have to get used to for many, many years.
Still, Peter made a remarkable companion. He was easy to talk into many adventures. Here was us in 1981, when I talked him into taking ballet classes with me. Ballet looked a lot easier on TV, so this phase didn't last long.
Peter had his teenage issues and I had mine. He grew from the stringbean pictured above into a really big, really strong guy. We went through a lot of bad stuff together. We had our fights - I even got mad enough to physically challenge him once or twice, and lost. Still, I made my point.
Most of the time though, we stayed pretty close. I remember the night he scared me half to death. For some reason I can't remember now, I went from the TV room over to the computer room, when we were living in Bowie, MD. I think it was because I'd heard some sounds. With the lights out, I couldn't see very well. There were slats on the door to the computer room, and through the slats, I could make out a figure.
Slowly I opened the slats, and a hand reached out...
I jumped out of my skin, and so did he. We'd both thought each other was a burglar or a ghost, and we laughed over it so hard.
Peter's sense of humor and his laugh never failed to get me laughing. He laughed like Yogi Bear and Goofy - kind of a giggle and a 'hyuk' mixed together.
He also (and he would probably deny this himself, but it can't be denied) had a killer Elvis impersonation. He'd only whip it out once in a while, but it was uncanny.
At a more personal level, my brother Peter was instrumental in my spiritual journey back to my faith. I'd left the church for a few years, looking for answers to questions, and things weren't going well. I couldn't find any other faith that satisfied me, not even the semi-agnostic life I was trying to live. I came back to my parents' house to live at the same time Peter was preparing to go on his mission.
Although most everybody else in the family respected my choices and left me alone to work through what I was going through, it was Peter who was continually putting the thought in my mind that I should go back to church. I refused him for a long time, but he kept me thinking about it.
One Sunday, Peter invited me to go with him to a missionary training he was attending with another young man from our ward. It felt like I should go, so I said yes. They met with a Brother Gere, who had a booming Texas voice. Even though they were in a separate classroom, and my mother and I were out in the church foyer on the couch waiting for them, I could hear every word Brother Gere said.
He talked to them about the experience of missionary work, and then he shared his testimony with them. I don't remember the exact words he said now, these many years later. What I do remember was the emotional and spiritual experience I had at that time when I heard that testimony - it's too sacred for me to discuss in detail, but it was a moment that answered many prayers for me, and it was the moment I knew what I needed to do. I needed to come back to my faith, which I did, and I've never left it since that time.
I owe that life-changing moment to my baby brother Peter, who subsequently went on his mission to Washington State, found and married his wife Karen (the beautiful lady below), and had five terrific kids since. Even though we live very far apart, and have for many years, he's still ever as much my friend as he was when we were children.
I'd been able to hold my own with my big brother up until then, but now I was outnumbered in the sibling department. A circumstance I would have to get used to for many, many years.
Peter had his teenage issues and I had mine. He grew from the stringbean pictured above into a really big, really strong guy. We went through a lot of bad stuff together. We had our fights - I even got mad enough to physically challenge him once or twice, and lost. Still, I made my point.
Most of the time though, we stayed pretty close. I remember the night he scared me half to death. For some reason I can't remember now, I went from the TV room over to the computer room, when we were living in Bowie, MD. I think it was because I'd heard some sounds. With the lights out, I couldn't see very well. There were slats on the door to the computer room, and through the slats, I could make out a figure.
Slowly I opened the slats, and a hand reached out...
I jumped out of my skin, and so did he. We'd both thought each other was a burglar or a ghost, and we laughed over it so hard.
Peter's sense of humor and his laugh never failed to get me laughing. He laughed like Yogi Bear and Goofy - kind of a giggle and a 'hyuk' mixed together.
He also (and he would probably deny this himself, but it can't be denied) had a killer Elvis impersonation. He'd only whip it out once in a while, but it was uncanny.
At a more personal level, my brother Peter was instrumental in my spiritual journey back to my faith. I'd left the church for a few years, looking for answers to questions, and things weren't going well. I couldn't find any other faith that satisfied me, not even the semi-agnostic life I was trying to live. I came back to my parents' house to live at the same time Peter was preparing to go on his mission.
Although most everybody else in the family respected my choices and left me alone to work through what I was going through, it was Peter who was continually putting the thought in my mind that I should go back to church. I refused him for a long time, but he kept me thinking about it.
One Sunday, Peter invited me to go with him to a missionary training he was attending with another young man from our ward. It felt like I should go, so I said yes. They met with a Brother Gere, who had a booming Texas voice. Even though they were in a separate classroom, and my mother and I were out in the church foyer on the couch waiting for them, I could hear every word Brother Gere said.
He talked to them about the experience of missionary work, and then he shared his testimony with them. I don't remember the exact words he said now, these many years later. What I do remember was the emotional and spiritual experience I had at that time when I heard that testimony - it's too sacred for me to discuss in detail, but it was a moment that answered many prayers for me, and it was the moment I knew what I needed to do. I needed to come back to my faith, which I did, and I've never left it since that time.
I owe that life-changing moment to my baby brother Peter, who subsequently went on his mission to Washington State, found and married his wife Karen (the beautiful lady below), and had five terrific kids since. Even though we live very far apart, and have for many years, he's still ever as much my friend as he was when we were children.
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