Patch Blog: A Band of Brothers

A rainy day in southern California can truly be the stuff from which transformation is born. And how else does a frustrated weekend expletive-mumblin’ golfer transition into committed short-term housekeeper?

As Robert DeNiro once said right up there on the silver screen, “Are you lookin’ at me?”

Yeah, I guess you can’t be slightly pregnant or allergic. But if a partial allergy were possible, I’d probably have a little anaphylaxis going if someone sneaked up and put a broom in my hand.

And who knew what treasures awaited those who sweep, sort, and stack?

I was cleaning the top of my desk in search in search of its surface when a random yellowed page of the Los Angeles Times caught my eye. The date in the upper left corner read Aug. 10, 2010.

So if you’ve read any of my stuff over the years you might already know I had the greatest big brother any kid could ever have.

And if you think I’m way more obnoxious than your basic, usual, and customary USC Trojan honk, just know my brother Jay is somewhere up there smiling from ear to ear.

If you’re puzzled why this home grown Angeleno is a diehard Celtics and Giants fan, so be it. You’ve just gotta get over it because I’ll never disrespect my #1 Guardian Angel. Plus, who can take purple and gold “wife-beaters” seriously or support a bunch of land-grabbing, carpet-bagging Bums? (How’d you like that one Big Bro?)

Jay was really always the smart one who also knew how to have fun; I was more of a grinder. While I barely spoke before the age of thirty, Jay was “first name” with everyone in Monterey Park by the time he was a teenage box boy at the old and beloved Star Market.

If Jay was still with us today, I would have been retired to the life of a village character somewhere on the Amalfi coast probably twenty years ago. Who needs consultants or advisors when your big brother/marketing director could make P.T. Barnum look more like an underwriter reading the phone book aloud at 4 a.m.?

So it’s funny the way life sends you greeting cards; I got one from Jay last year.

It’s impossible to believe Jay would be 74 as I write. I’ll always visualize my brother as the young guy who went off to Mexico City to take in his third Summer Olympic Games. I never saw Jay again . And I’ll never forget that phone call.

The anger, bitterness, and frustration aren’t so close to the surface anymore. The disbelief remains.

And sometimes I think I get a little too comfortable just being on my own, far too stressed about getting close to people. These days, my co-workers are so important to me and compensate for so much that one of my fears is my wearing out my welcome with them.

But a year ago in August, I got a wake-up call — and a greeting card, courtesy of columnist Sandy Banks and Page 2 of the Los Angeles Times. The feature, titled “Garfield’s band of brothers” told the story of a bunch of East LA kids from varied backgrounds accepting and supporting one another through the growing-up trials and tribulations of gaining social acceptance. Seemed like the glue was sports and the chemistry that evolved was pure magic, even to this day.

The band of brothers, a.k.a. the Nite Owls, are, for the most part, still around; their story is an anthem to friendship, trust, and loyalty. The best medicine if you can find it.

Two photos depicted some of the band of brothers then and now. And looking out at me from the Times was my 20 year-old big Brother.

Jay had all the qualities to get a unanimous vote into the Nite Owls as a Journalism major over at East Los Angeles Community College (he hadn’t even attended Garfield, Jay graduated from Mark Keppel.) My brother achieved friendship on “hello;” his forgiveness and generosity were as natural to him as breathing.

As I’m looking at the Times and young Jay, it’s almost like he’s a little disappointed, asking, “C’mon old man. Haven’t you figured it out yet?”

And I’m still just hoping Jay’s wings aren’t riding on my being a quick study.

At the end of “It’s a Wonderful Life,” Clarence the Angel gets his wings and writes, “No one is a failure who has friends.” No wonder Jay only needed 31 years to be an outrageous success.

And typically of Jay, he sent me a card on his birthday. I guess true friends, Brothers, and angels never change.