FWIW – Tommy

It was a cold and windy night. Additionally, the snow which had begun falling gently early in the afternoon was now showing that it had intentions of making movement difficult for us in the days ahead.
It was a Sunday in Bellrose, Long Island (N.Y.). Our home at 2A Huron Road was two-story. Grandma and Grandpa had the upstairs, while we lived on the ground floor. Of course, in those days, most of their time was spent downstairs with us; us being their daughter Ellen, Son-In-Law Forbes and Grandson, me. Typical nuclear family in the forties.
Dad, Mom and Grandma had left early in the afternoon, before the snow had begun to fall and I was having my nap.
Upon awakening, Grandpa put me at ease and we spent a pleasant afternoon together. Nothing unusual about that, I was not suspecting the change in family dynamics that lay ahead. An only child into my fifth year of life, no suspicions that things could alter in a literal blink of the eye.
Afternoon shadows grew longer; we could see the snow accumulating steadily outside, but inside Grandpa and I were snug and secure.
Darkness then, and together we turned on the television to watch “Super Circus” with Ringmaster Claude Kirshner, a Sunday evening staple. As best recollection comes to mind, it was past 8 o’clock when they came in through the front door, the cold wind and snow attempting vainly to gain entrance as well.
And, there they were, Mom and Dad and Grandma and something wrapped up in a mound of blankets, lightly dusted with a few flakes of snow, issuing wails banshee-like. Taken aback, my face must have shown a variety of conflicting emotions, curiosity, uncertainty, despair, then back to curiosity. “Look, Bobby, we’ve brought you a baby brother!” my Mother said, hoping to engender some sort of positive response.
It hadn’t dawned on me yet, but this interloper was not just a visitor, but was destined to stay; to be integrated into our family as a sixth where previously there had been but five. The more disconcerting realization was to come later; there were now going to be two little boys to lay claim to the energies of Mom, Dad, Grandma and Grandpa. So came the concept of sibling rivalry to an unprepared five year-old.
The first inklings were upon me rather soon, as the wails of the infant kept me awake all through that night, that seemingly endless night. Of course Mom and Dad were up with the new stranger as well. At the time, that was of little concern to me…I wanted to go to sleep but couldn’t with all the racket the newcomer was making!
As time went by, of course, the new family dynamic was established. At first there was denial. Then, betrayal. Followed by rejection (or did rejection come first, or did it presage betrayal?). Finally, at some point, acceptance of the inevitable. Tommy (Christened Thomas Forbes Beck)was my brother.
About two years later I was to learn about the concept of adoption.
My mother asked me one day about that awful night, when they had brought my brother home. At the approximate age of seven and a half, the processes of childbirth had not been that evident to me. Please remember, in 1950 things were different. Pregnancy was much more personal, more private, more adults-only, if you will.
I had responded to Mom’s question cautiously, “Did you know where we got the baby?” saying that I didn’t know. That day I was to learn that she and my Dad weren’t able to have children “the regular way” (a term that would come around again a few years later). She patiently explained that they both wanted another child, another boy to raise. With perhaps a bit of wisdom from who knows where at the age of seven and a half, I did not ask, “Why? Wasn’t I enough for you?” Mom continued, explaining to my immature self that they wanted another child because they had enjoyed raising me so much, they wanted to do it again and that they had chosen to adopt another child, just like they had adopted me.
A seven and a half year-old boy in 1950 has other things that claim his interest, so I just filed it away, figuring that Mom’s explanation was so calm and reasonable that the world just worked that way sometimes.
Of course, the sibling rivalry went on for years, even into adulthood.
As second child, Tom seemed (to me) to be able to get away with more bad behavior (as I judged). And though we were ‘brothers’, it was more of an in-name-only relationship.
Tom was the more athletic; Dad drew closer to him, it seemed to me. On the other hand, I was the more studious, the more disciplined; Mom said that of course she loved us both equally, but she liked me for me being who I was (Are you listening, Tommy Smothers?).
Years went by. Quite a few, in fact. On December 8th, 1980 I learned that my Dad had passed away early that morning. The news pierced my heart like a physical knife, it was so painful. Working in California at the time, I made arrangements with my employer and left back to Phoenix the next day.
The events of that day were somewhat blurred. Tommy and I arrived almost simultaneously at the mobile home where our parents had lived. Later in the evening I turned to Tommy and said, “Hey brother, want to go have a beer?” He agreed and the two of us took our leave assuring Mom that we would not be out late.
Sitting opposite each other that night, I ventured, “Well Tom, it’s just us now…” He said, “Yeah. Looks like it.” I told him how I had been jealous of his relationship with my Dad. He said that it had been good because he
had felt a need to be closer to Mom that never came to pass.
Adopted, the both of us, that night we knew what it meant to be brothers.

Tomorrow: My Brother Dies
Today is December 17th; 763 days until the end of the Bush Administration.