6-05-12 Pictures of Tommy - a memoirist’s blog #37

(Right now, I’m focusing on my memoirist work that I’ll call, simply, “Pictures of Tommy” -- mostly about my psychotic brother and his legacy.  It touches on my personal fears, too. . . .)

LETTERS TO THE DEAD

One really useful function of writing is how it can transform something awful into its opposite, something healing and cathartic.  In some ways, I’d call it a trick o’ the trade, but that sort of cheapens the magic, doesn’t it?  Anyway, my life was saved by being a creative writing major.  I am sure this technique was one of our writing exercises.  Anyway:

Here’s a letter I wrote to Tommy a few months after he passed away.  It’s still a work in progress, but every time I work on it, it brings me closer to him in a strange way. . .

(Brother Tom circa 1990, around the time of Carrie & Dan's wedding)

Hi Tom,

I suggested to Carrie to write you a letter -- it’d help her feel better about you and your death.  Writing about you is helpful -- therapeutic -- to me, but writing to you is also nice.  I am sure on some level you can hear these words, etched out in my notebook or even typed out on my computer.

Time to come clean: I live with knowing that I’ve thought of you dying the past year or two.  Every time we’ve spoken I’ve been sad, sensing you wouldn’t be around for too much longer.  Not that I was actively hoping for your death -- or wishing any harm to you.  I just knew you were sick and upset and struggling so.  I feel guilty admitting that I also thought that a few dollars from your estate would be an absolute lifesaver for me at this time if you did die, though.  So, in one way, I feel horrible for my thoughts: partly presentiments and hunches mingled in with a vague greed.

I just had a feeling you were going to die soon.  So it came as little surprise, partial relief, and certain guilt when we heard you passed away on Friday, July 29^th.  I was tremendously sad for you, but also glad you no longer had to live in that tortured mind and body. 

I hope you’ll forgive me for having those precognitions about you and not saying something. How can a person say such things?  Too weird.  You might have gotten really upset if I did.  There were times you wanted to die, I do know.  . . and every now and then, even a death wish is granted.

It wasn’t my wish for you.  I wish you peace, I wish you love.  I hope you find understanding -- which I’m sure you will, in the heaven you prayed for all those years on earth.

So thank you, Tommy, and rest in peace. I really mean it.  By the way, I forgive you for hurting me.  I won’t forget, but I will forgive and try to understand.  Sorry if I hurt you, too.  

Love, Laurie  (PS - I’ll always be your sister)

6-04-12 Pictures of Tommy - a memoirist’s blog #36

(Right now, I’m focusing on my memoirist work that I’ll call, simply, “Pictures of Tommy” -- mostly about my psychotic brother and his legacy.  It touches on my personal fears, too. . . .)

UNLUCKY?

Just as some people believe in destiny and others not at all, the world is sometimes divided into those who believe in luck, and those who do not.  Based on five decades plus of lifelong  observation -- keen at certain moments -- I’ve had my share of all kinds of luck.  I believe: 1. some people are lucky, and some are not, 2. You can try to make your luck, but there’s a basic pattern you can’t buck, and 3. Circumstances, personality, and hard work usually meet in a nexus that some call luck -- but if that crucial element of REAL luck doesn’t figuratively kiss that happy triumvirate, fuggedaboutit.  You’re unlucky.

My brother, Tom, seemed to be one of the unlucky ones.  He was mentally, then physically, sick.  On top of that, he was awkward socially, athletically, and circumstantially.  Sure, he had a family who loved him but we also didn’t understand him and some of us were scared of him.  Did he have the endearing personality to stand out and be chosen for some of life’s choicer turns?  Did he have the necessary talent to be recognized for his guitar playing and music?  In all honesty, no -- and no.

In most ways, Tom was the unluckiest person I knew.  But, luckily (!), he knew that God loved him and he clung to that belief almost all of his life.  True to his name, Thomas, he had moments of doubt.  But a big part of every conversation went like this:

“You know, Laurie, I have some troubles, but I’ve made peace with my God.  Or, he’s made peace with me.  We’re all right.”

“That’s good, Tom.  I’m glad to hear that.  I’m sure that God is glad to hear that.  Lord knows, you haven’t had it easy in this life.”

“We-l-l-l, that all depends on how you look at it--“

“So, you’re keeping your eye on the donut, you mean?”  I was remembering one of our father’s favorite little sayings: “As you go along in life, my friend, and try to reach your goal/Keep your eye upon the donut, and not upon the hole.”

“What’s this about donuts?  Are you trying to make me hungry?  All I’ve had today was a lousy slice of pizza, and it wasn’t even that good.  Did you know I can’t have sugar any more?  I’m diabetic.  I have to drink diet soda.  That’s pretty horrible.”

“Oh, man.  Just your luck, huh?”

“Laurie, what do you mean, just my luck?”  In seconds, Tommy’s mood turned.  Around this time, I figured maybe he had some kind of affective disorder, maybe something bipolar because he got angry so fast, seemingly out of nowhere. I’d been around that kind of person before.  I wanted to get off the phone -- quick.

“Uh, nothing.  And the donut thing was just something dad used to say. . .”  With my unlucky brother, you not only had to pick your battles, you had to pick your figures of speech quite gingerly.  

6-03-12 Pictures of Tommy - a memoirist’s blog #35

(Right now, I’m focusing on my memoirist work that I’ll call, simply, “Pictures of Tommy” -- mostly about my psychotic brother and his legacy.  It touches on my personal fears, too. . . .)

Even though Tommy started out with a violent psychotic episode and I wrote in “Ode to Northern,” a line about  “Because you became sometimes violent,” it is a relief to know that, according to the NIMH, schizophrenics aren’t considered a violent bunch. . . In her book, Ben Behind His Voices, Randye Kaye quotes Christine Adamec from How to Live With a Mentally Ill Person: 

Basic Nature Counts

“While many people with mental illness act in unusual and unpredictable ways, they do not often strike out at someone. One of the best indicators of whether an individual has the potential to be violent is past history.  If a person has never been violent, he or she is very unlikely to be so in the future.”

And now, the NIMH weighs in:

Are people with schizophrenia violent?

People with schizophrenia are not usually violent. In fact, most violent crimes are not committed by people with schizophrenia.⁷ However, some symptoms are associated with violence, such as delusions of persecution. Substance abuse may also increase the chance a person will become violent.⁸ If a person with schizophrenia becomes violent, the violence is usually directed at family members and tends to take place at home.

The risk of violence among people with schizophrenia is small. But people with the illness attempt suicide much more often than others. About 10 percent (especially young adult males) die by suicide.^9,10 It is hard to predict which people with schizophrenia are prone to suicide. If you know someone who talks about or attempts suicide, help him or her find professional help right away.

People with schizophrenia are not usually violent.

6-02-12 Pictures of Tommy - a memoirist’s blog #34

(Right now, I’m focusing on my memoirist work that I’ll call, simply, “Pictures of Tommy” -- mostly about my psychotic brother and his legacy.  It touches on my personal fears, too. . . .)

So, according to the above negative symptoms, lack of pleasure or “anhedonia” (one of my favorite words) is one of the symptoms associated with schizophrenia.  I felt that much of the time when I was sick with anorexia.  And when I’m at my most depressed, that’s what happens: I can’t feel pleasure in life, which makes me feel more depressed, which makes me panic, which makes me consider . . . well, signing off, permanently. 

That’s why I thank God for music and writing.  Even if there are no other pleasures in life to be found, when I retreat into my own space and mind, when I pick up an instrument, sing and play music, I can heal myself with words and music.  I can get frantic, not having time to myself, because at heart I’m an introvert who needs that time apart.  Do I talk to myself?  Oh yes.  But hearing voices?  Uh uh.  The words that come to me when I write are inspired but not . . . hallucinations.

On to more info about Tom’s mental illness from the NIMH site, focusing on Symptoms of Schizophrenia:

When does schizophrenia start and who gets it?

Schizophrenia affects men and women equally. It occurs at similar rates in all ethnic groups around the world. Symptoms such as hallucinations and delusions usually start between ages 16 and 30. Men tend to experience symptoms a little earlier than women. Most of the time, people do not get schizophrenia after age 45.³ Schizophrenia rarely occurs in children, but awareness of childhood-onset schizophrenia is increasing.^4,5

It can be difficult to diagnose schizophrenia in teens. This is because the first signs can include a change of friends, a drop in grades, sleep problems, and irritability—behaviors that are common among teens. A combination of factors can predict schizophrenia in up to 80 percent of youth who are at high risk of developing the illness. These factors include isolating oneself and withdrawing from others, an increase in unusual thoughts and suspicions, and a family history of psychosis.⁶ In young people who develop the disease, this stage of the disorder is called the "prodromal" period.

. . . according to Randye Kaye, new research is linking autism to schizophrenia.  Makes sense, doesn’t it? 

6-01-12 Pictures of Tommy - a memoirist’s blog #33

(Right now, I’m focusing on my memoirist work that I’ll call, simply, “Pictures of Tommy” -- mostly about my psychotic brother and his legacy.  It touches on my personal fears, too. . . .)

Time for a reality check: do I have these sorts of symptoms?  Did I ever?  No, no, and -- no. The only thing I do is make up words, those “neologisms.”  For a wordsmith and a lyricist, that’s not such a bad thing, now is it?

On to more info about Tom’s mental illness from the NIMH site, focusing on Symptoms of Schizophrenia:

Negative symptoms

Negative symptoms are associated with disruptions to normal emotions and behaviors. These symptoms are harder to recognize as part of the disorder and can be mistaken for depression or other conditions. These symptoms include the following:

•               "Flat affect" (a person's face does not move or he or she talks in a dull or monotonous voice)

•               Lack of pleasure in everyday life

•               Lack of ability to begin and sustain planned activities

•               Speaking little, even when forced to interact.

People with negative symptoms need help with everyday tasks. They often neglect basic personal hygiene. This may make them seem lazy or unwilling to help themselves, but the problems are symptoms caused by the schizophrenia.

Cognitive symptoms

Cognitive symptoms are subtle. Like negative symptoms, cognitive symptoms may be difficult to recognize as part of the disorder. Often, they are detected only when other tests are performed. Cognitive symptoms include the following:

•               Poor "executive functioning" (the ability to understand information and use it to make decisions)

•               Trouble focusing or paying attention

•               Problems with "working memory" (the ability to use information immediately after learning it).

Cognitive symptoms often make it hard to lead a normal life and earn a living. They can cause great emotional distress.

5-31-12 Pictures of Tommy - a memoirist’s blog #32

(Right now, I’m focusing on my memoirist work that I’ll call, simply, “Pictures of Tommy” -- mostly about my psychotic brother and his legacy.  It touches on my personal fears, too. . . .)

As the information from the NIMH website is so useful and straightforward, I’ll add some more for my readers, hoping it’s stuff they’d want to know. . .

What are the symptoms of schizophrenia?

The symptoms of schizophrenia fall into three broad categories: positive symptoms, negative symptoms, and cognitive symptoms.

Positive symptoms

Positive symptoms are psychotic behaviors not seen in healthy people. People with positive symptoms often "lose touch" with reality. These symptoms can come and go. Sometimes they are severe and at other times hardly noticeable, depending on whether the individual is receiving treatment. They include the following:

Hallucinations are things a person sees, hears, smells, or feels that no one else can see, hear, smell, or feel. "Voices" are the most common type of hallucination in schizophrenia. Many people with the disorder hear voices. The voices may talk to the person about his or her behavior, order the person to do things, or warn the person of danger. Sometimes the voices talk to each other. People with schizophrenia may hear voices for a long time before family and friends notice the problem.

Other types of hallucinations include seeing people or objects that are not there, smelling odors that no one else detects, and feeling things like invisible fingers touching their bodies when no one is near.

Delusions are false beliefs that are not part of the person's culture and do not change. The person believes delusions even after other people prove that the beliefs are not true or logical. People with schizophrenia can have delusions that seem bizarre, such as believing that neighbors can control their behavior with magnetic waves. They may also believe that people on television are directing special messages to them, or that radio stations are broadcasting their thoughts aloud to others. Sometimes they believe they are someone else, such as a famous historical figure. They may have paranoid delusions and believe that others are trying to harm them, such as by cheating, harassing, poisoning, spying on, or plotting against them or the people they care about. These beliefs are called "delusions of persecution."

Thought disorders are unusual or dysfunctional ways of thinking. One form of thought disorder is called "disorganized thinking." This is when a person has trouble organizing his or her thoughts or connecting them logically. They may talk in a garbled way that is hard to understand. Another form is called "thought blocking." This is when a person stops speaking abruptly in the middle of a thought. When asked why he or she stopped talking, the person may say that it felt as if the thought had been taken out of his or her head. Finally, a person with a thought disorder might make up meaningless words, or "neologisms."

Movement disorders may appear as agitated body movements. A person with a movement disorder may repeat certain motions over and over. In the other extreme, a person may become catatonic. Catatonia is a state in which a person does not move and does not respond to others. Catatonia is rare today, but it was more common when treatment for schizophrenia was not available.²

"Voices" are the most common type of hallucination in schizophrenia.

I’ve just figured out that the title of Randye Kaye’s book, Ben Behind His Voices, makes total sense because of the last statement from the NIMH website on Symptoms of Schizophrenia.  Brilliant!

5-30-12 Pictures of Tommy - a memoirist’s blog #31

(Right now, I’m focusing on my memoirist work that I’ll call, simply, “Pictures of Tommy” -- mostly about my psychotic brother and his legacy.  It touches on my personal fears, too. . . .)

The other day, I interviewed Communications Professional, Randye Kaye (she’s an actress, voiceover artist, radio personality -- and author).  Her book, Ben Behind His Voices, is about her schizophrenic son who had gradual onset schizophrenia between the ages of 16 - 19, approx. 

Until a patient has a full blown psychotic episode, it’s impossible for the mental health profession to render a diagnosis. . . and so many of the early diagnoses for Randye’s son were all wrong. . . at least my brother, Tom, was diagnosed early on, I believe.  But forty-odd years ago, the medications weren’t anywhere near as good as they now are. . . and I’m almost certain that the meds Tom took had a profound affect on his physical health, probably shortened his life.  Sad.

At any rate, here’s some useful information from the National Institute of Mental Health (NIMH) from www.nimh.nih.gov:

What is schizophrenia?

Schizophrenia is a chronic, severe, and disabling brain disorder that has affected people throughout history. About 1 percent of Americans have this illness.¹

People with the disorder may hear voices other people don't hear. They may believe other people are reading their minds, controlling their thoughts, or plotting to harm them. This can terrify people with the illness and make them withdrawn or extremely agitated.

People with schizophrenia may not make sense when they talk. They may sit for hours without moving or talking. Sometimes people with schizophrenia seem perfectly fine until they talk about what they are really thinking.

Families and society are affected by schizophrenia too. Many people with schizophrenia have difficulty holding a job or caring for themselves, so they rely on others for help.

Treatment helps relieve many symptoms of schizophrenia, but most people who have the disorder cope with symptoms throughout their lives. However, many people with schizophrenia can lead rewarding and meaningful lives in their communities. Researchers are developing more effective medications and using new research tools to understand the causes of schizophrenia. In the years to come, this work may help prevent and better treat the illness.

5-18-12 Pictures of Tommy - a memoirist’s blog #19

(Right now, I’m focusing on my memoirist work that I’ll call, simply, “Pictures of Tommy” -- all about my psychotic brother and his legacy. If so inclined, please share, and tell me what you think. . . )

MODUS OPERANDI?

There are those who live the unexamined life.  Good ol’ Socrates said it’s not worth living. Obviously he didn’t truck much with the modern age -- he didn’t have Xfinity cable television and the internet to amuse himself with, Hulu and endless re-runs.  Come to think of it, I’d like to see what Socrates would have done with FaceBook.  All right, I take that back -- in the modern age, he could have waxed introspective on his blogs and reached followers that way.  Anyway, for those of us in this modern age who really DO think, and live the examined life, these are good times, with the blogs and all. 

At times, I have done “the examined life” in extremis.  That is why I write songs and articles and anything else possible.  I have a crying need to understand.  What makes things tick?  I have to make sense of so much that seems insensible, illogical, and unfair. I am an introvert at heart, INFJ on the Myers Briggs scale.  I can rise to the occasion and be a social butterfly, but that’s mostly because large gatherings make me nervous and I can’t sit still.  I worry that somebody might feel slighted if I -- by accident -- ignore them.  I could blurt the wrong thing out, so I try to listen twice as much as talk.  I like to stay by myself, in my own little thoughts, a lot.

Why would it be so important to write about a sibling whose brain chemistry’s gone amok?  Of the many good reasons, here’s a very deep motivating factor:  almost every day, I question my sanity.  I question my thoughts, actions, interactions, choices I make.  I wonder if the miracle of clear thought and focus will again be mine, even if just for minutes at a time.  I wonder about my ability to keep going, find work, keep a job, finish a project, keep nose to the ol’ grindstone. 

I never wonder about how to do things I’ve learned and practiced all these years, things that come naturally:  writing (journalism etc.), interviewing others, singing, songwriting, playing music, and on some level, being a photographer/videographer (the latter I need to catch up on more -- but I’m learning and getting pretty good).

I do wonder, every day that I wake up, will I make it today?  Will I hold on to my mental health?  Physical health?  Can I pay the bills and keep the house?  Can I help my family and friends to do that, too?  Will the day come when I have to be locked up. . . again?

Because it did happen, once -- a few years after Tommy started going into hospital after hospital. . . 

5-16-12 Pictures of Tommy - a memoirist’s blog #17

(Right now, I’m focusing on my memoirist work that I’ll call, simply, “Pictures of Tommy” -- all about my psychotic brother and his legacy. If so inclined, please share, and tell me what you think. . . )

COMMISERANTS/COMMISERATI - part 1

I’m heartened by hearing from others who have mentally ill brothers.  I just met author Mary-Ann Tirone Smith, whose memoir, Girls of Tender Age, was partly about her deceased, autistic brother, Tyler.  Referred to as “Rain Man” in the book by some people in a hospital that cared for him, this guy had a very limited life, socially.  Back then, in the fifties (Tyler was a good 10-15 years older than my brother, Tom), if you were that strange, you were considered “retarded” -- strange because autistic Tyler Tirone was an idiot savant and could read big books about WWII at the age of 8. . .

He was kept out of school, stayed at home, slept all day, and had a lot of quirks, among them the inability to stand noises like dogs barking or people crying.  In so many ways, he was a lot worse off than my brother, Tom.  Of course, they had entirely different issues/devils. . . and medications too, of course. 

Reading M-A Tirone Smith’s book made me relieved that our family’s problems with Tom arose in the late nineteen sixties; at least it didn’t seem like such a benighted time.  Sure, there was still stigma aplenty and my parents suffered a lot because they couldn’t tell others about their wacko son (it just wasn’t done).  Still.  It could have been worse, all right.

Fifteen years or so ago, I was visiting my West Coast Aunt and Uncle (mom’s brother, Jim, and his wife, Kathy).  They lived in Bellevue, Washington -- a suburb for the Boeing families who moved there in the early ‘60’s, like them.  We were sitting up late, in the kitchen, after a nice gathering of the cousins and a sing-along with guitars in the living room.  We’ve always been a musical family.  In fact, one of the Vonderlinns sang with the Trapp Family Singers. . .

Aunt Kathy said how sad it was that my mom couldn’t tell her family about the hard times with Tommy.  She’s a proud woman. . . how could she admit failure?

I remember reading something in mom’s room one time, a letter from a doctor saying something about a “seductive mother” that I didn’t understand.  Her bedroom was a total mess, a jumble of clutter & papers all over the place, not at all a restful place. . . but how my eyes lit on that paper, I’ll never know.  It just chilled me to the bone to read it.  Poor mom, what a double burden, being blamed for her behavior AND for her son’s chemical imbalance. . . poor mom.

5-15-12 Pictures of Tommy - a memoirist’s blog #16

(Right now, I’m focusing on my memoirist work that I’ll call, simply, “Pictures of Tommy” -- all about my psychotic brother and his legacy. If so inclined, please share, and tell me what you think. . . )

EULOGY, part 2 (con’t)

And how about this one, also by my brother, Tom Agnelli?

WORDS

Sighs and byes and apple pies,

Lines and blinds and sorry minds,

If your truths turn black,

And you want to attack,

You might find,

You want to unwind.

They say we’re precious gold,.

And our lives will unfold

And will make the scene someday,.

If we re what we say.

Hey are you lonely

Haven’t got a friend?

Bettina’s got something,

And it never seems to end.

You go through all your problems,

You know it hurts me so,

But maybe it’s just my issues,

And I wish they’d let you go.

Brother Tom could be smart, funny, interesting – and demanding, unreasoning, stubborn – but as his friend, Frank, always said, he had this deep down optimism and would always bounce back.

But towards the end, Tommy’s physical health got to the point of no return.  His confusion and anger about life – and his ambivalence about being alive – finally hit the tipping point. 

Here’s the last poem I’ll read – but there are so many more, so many good ones that must be shared. . .

TRUTH

By Tom Agnelli

I laugh I cry

It’s too painful,

To say goodbye

I look around

I say a prayer

It’s hard to know that

You’re not there.

And yet there’s Heaven

In the sky

And I know where

my spirit lies

A part of me

Wants to be,

Let me let go

Set me free

Tommy, we hear you.  We understand.  We love you.  (I wrote this to be read on August 5, 2011, at his Saint Anastasia’s Church funeral mass. . .)

5-14-12 Pictures of Tommy - a memoirist’s blog #15

(Right now, I’m focusing on my memoirist work that I’ll call, simply, “Pictures of Tommy” -- all about my psychotic brother and his legacy. If so inclined, please share, and tell me what you think. . . )

I will always love this quote about writing, best:  “There’s nothing to writing.  All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein.”  Red Smith (1905 – 1982)

This is certainly true of my late brother and of me, writing about him – albeit on a computer rather than a typewriter.

(this is my little portable typewriter from England circa 1925)

EULOGY  for Thomas Agnelli, R.I.P.

Our brother, Tom – or Tommy – had a thing for being understood.  He was a talented guy, with words and music, being the product of a writer, Bernard, and a musician, Barbara.  But he also struggled his whole life with chemical imbalances that resulted in Schizo-Affective Disorder.  He craved love, then pushed it away.  He couldn’t help himself.

At any rate, because or in spite of this, Tom had a burning desire to be UNDERSTOOD.

Just after our mother, Barbara, passed away in 1997, we noticed Tommy started writing poetry.  In addition to jamming on the electric guitar (playing the blues and rock), this new verbal form of expression, poetry, was planted in Tom and just blossomed.

More than anything, these poems are so expressive, so eloquent, so revealing.  (AND they’re compact – like all good poetry.)  Our brother was a multifaceted talent in so many ways – and as changeable as a summer’s day: sunny, suddenly cloudy, chance of showers, frequent thunderstorms. . . . then sunny again.

Tom’s faith is his God was touching and complete:

(Tom Agnelli’s poem, BELIEF)

He is God when you don’t believe,

Bright as the sun and hard to be,

Do you shout to one who isn’t there

Call me anew when you’re back again.

Finding the edge off during wonder

And pain,

Thought it might come back as rain again,

My heart raised on a cross of word,

He wanted to express himself as

Understood.

5-12-12 Pictures of Tommy - a memoirist’s blog #13

(Right now, I’m focusing on my memoirist work that I’ll call, simply, “Pictures of Tommy” -- all about my psychotic brother and his legacy. If so inclined, please share, and tell me what you think. . . )

SPELLING BEE

Being in a Diocese of Brooklyn Catholic school spelling bee was a big deal.  This is a huge parish, with millions of people and hundreds of thousands of kids enrolled in the schools. This annual spelling bee was held for grade eight students.  Tommy, of course, was one of the finalists from our school, good ol’ Saint Anastasia’s; being skipped a grade, he was also one of the youngest contestants in the diocese.

He made it, in fact, to the finals in downtown Brooklyn somewhere, in a huge old-fashioned auditorium, with plush seats that pushed down, like in a movie theater.  I was along that day, and the memory of the tension that spelling bee contest day twists my stomach as I type.   

Every time they’d ask a kid to spell something, I’d spell it in my head, too.  I got most of them right (maybe that’s why I love playing “Jeopardy!” to this day, the triumph of the correct answer), and was very proud of my older brother for doing so well and not cracking under the pressure.

After what seemed like years, a lunch break was called.  After lunch, it came down to three finalists.  Unbearable tension in the air in this massive hall, a dark, dank auditorium that looked like it held a thousand, at least.

It was Tommy’s turn. “Spell ‘balalaika,’ a Russian stringed instrument.”

Tommy went, “B-A-L-E--“  and continued, “-L-A-I-K-A.”

Wrong.  He was out.  Should have stayed with the a’s. . . so much for my brother’s moment in the sun for our school.  It was back to being the old “Egghead Agnelli” again. 

Of course, I learned how to spell “balalaika” -- how could I ever forget!  It’s no secret why we were good at spelling in our house: dad would give us 25 cents (equal nowadays to a fw bucks, easy) for correctly spelling stuff like  “Worcestershire” sauce. I remember going to the refrigerator door, taking out the Lea & Perrins bottle, and memorizing it.

I remember the secure feeling of my hand, clutching the quarter. . . And I wondered how Tommy felt, missing that word in the spelling bee.  Did it make him sad?  Did it make him mad?  

He didn’t seem to have any reaction but a mild shrug.  He never spoke about it.  That seemed weird to me but then, boys were different, anyways, how they reacted to things. But with Tommy, really: no affect.

(graduation photo of Tom, 8^th grade -- I'm on the left, and Carrie's on the right -- she's such a cutie!)

5-08-12 Pictures of Tommy - a memoirist’s blog #9

(Right now, I’m focusing on my memoirist work that I’ll call, simply, “Pictures of Tommy” -- all about my psychotic brother and his legacy. If so inclined, please share, and tell me what you think. . . )

PICTURES OF TOMMY WE’D LIKE TO IMAGINE

Our brother, Tom, looking healthy and happy, with a mouthful of teeth.  He is in his mid 50’s, a handsome, tall man of normal weight, maybe with a little potbelly in the middle.  He stands beside his loving wife, a plump, sweetly smiling hippieish looking woman in her 50’s with blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, and two kids, two teenaged girls with goofy smiles.

(This is only imaginary because he lost his teeth, was obese with a gigantic belly, looked very unhealthy, about 20 years older than his chronological age, never had a real romantic relationship to our knowledge.)

Tom playing with a great rockin’ blues band, rockin’ out on his Fender Stratocaster guitar, trading licks in heaven with George Harrison, the former Beatle. 

(Again, highly imaginary because nobody’s ever brought back pictures from heaven: Tom always adored Eric Clapton, the Beatles and THE BLUES, and was always jamming or trying to jam with other musicians.)

Tom in his home office/study, working intently on something musical or literary, his orderly, clean surroundings reflecting accomplishments & productivity.

(His reality was cruelly the opposite: Tom lived and worked in a wretched, filthy apartment, clutter and grime and cockroaches, mice and rats -- “Tiny Livestock” as my husband calls them -- swarming a small one bedroom ground floor apartment in a mid century red brick building in Woodhaven, Queens, New York.  How he lived there, relaxed, wrote so many poems and was able to play music in those surroundings boggles some brains -- like mine.)

Here is a picture that Tom’s friend, Frank, sent to me in an email a few weeks after the funeral.  Frank wrote, “The attached picture reminds me of Tom.  Yes, he has been at least as special to Heaven as he is to us.” 

It’s remarkable to me how much the man in the picture, embraced by Jesus on a throne in heaven, resembles my brother, Tom.  I sure hope he is being embraced in heaven as he lived a hell on earth. . .