The Keeper of the Calm

In each family there seems to be that one person who holds the group together; the glue, the cornerstone, the core, the go-to person when life gets tough. They are the one that calms the storms of life, the ones that bring good common sense and humor when needed. They are the ones that you feel the "safest" with, somehow. The ones we look up to and trust.

In our extended family, that person is my brother. My sister and I saw early on that he was our protype of what a man of the house should be like. We felt the respect and protection from him towards us and saw the sense of fairness and admiration he had for all women. He was a role model for us that set our standards higher. (We didn't always heed to that mark, but we knew better, just the same.)

There were no surprises from him. The words steady and patterned come to mind to describe him as a child. That character, he never outgrew. To me, in a world that I often find in flux, I also find the promise of security in his steadiness. He was like a warm, cozy blanket on a winter's harsh day.

When he could barely crawl, I distinctly remember him making his way to the set of encyclopedias my mother proudly kept for us back in the 1960's. When he reached the bookshelf, he would pull them out and bang them with his little hands. I swear that I actually saw osmosis working to pass the wisdom of the world and all its trivia from those books to his brain! He was our little Poindexter.

As he got older, we noticed that one of his eyes crossed and he had to wear black rimmed corrective glasses that made him appear to be even smarter than he already was.

Seven years separated us in age, with me being the oldest of three and my sister following his birth, three years later. He was the middle child of our family of origin, the peacemaker. He was our mother's favorite child and that was undeniable. But my sister and I agreed that was okay. He was our favorite, too. There was no room for jealousy, only acknowledgement. We all had our place and most of the time we were comfortable in that space. In fact, the only time I ever felt the need to upset the pecking order was when I fought to watch a particular television show and had to pry the remote from his unwilling hands. (Being the oldest, I could and I would.)

I truly believe that God knew exactly what He was doing by placing my brother in the middle of my sister, Kitty and myself. You see, she and I were born to be rebels of sorts. We were seldom satisfied and often bored, but stubborn enough to demand our way. My brother just went with the flow and by doing so, got most of what he wanted in the time, attention, and good graces of our mother. There was one day in particular that she and I ran away from home unbeknownst to one another. Kitty was only seven and left for a friend's house with all her Barbies without asking permission. I ran off to be with my boyfriend where my mother couldn't purposely find me. No wonder our mother loved him the best. God knew that she needed at least one "good" kid.

My brother has always been keen on any type of sports. He followed the games and stats of college and pro with anything that included the word, "ball." I once said of him that if there had been a national nose picking event, that Leck (or Charles) as his friends call him, would recite the quality and quantity of those stats, too. I credit him with making me and my sister somewhat of a star with our male peers. We could prognosticate winners and give rationale behind our picks for Super Bowls quite readily. It had just "rubbed off" on us.

One of the proudest moments I have of him was on his 7th birthday when he planned his party and sent out invitations to all his friends from school. Now, mind you, in the late sixties in the South, mingling outside of your race was considered a faux-paus. I don't know if Leck was even cognizant of the social implications, but when one of his little white friends told him he couldn't come to the party because one of his little black friends had been invited, my brother's immediate response was, "Well, you're gonna miss a good party then." And he had a wonderful party that year, too!

Friends have always been an important part of my brother's life and well-being. In the mid 70's, we moved from Louisiana to Houston, TX. There, my two younger siblings went to junior high and high school, and later college. My brother to University of Houston and my sister to University of Texas.

My sister has one close friend from back then that she has kept up with, I have some of mine as Facebook friends, but my brother has his entire posse in the same geographic area. For almost 50 years, they have intertwined. So many good memories such as Christmas parties each year, shared tailgating done, too. And family support when there has been a funeral. Keeping friends close is a rarity and he has many "brothers" by different mothers. That makes me so happy to see him supported and appreciated.

When I had children, I could not have asked for a better uncle for them. (My sister would say the same of him, too with her only child.) He was so supportive and fun for them. He helped them with their studies, played ball with them, picked them up from school, spent time teaching the Cub Scout group about electricity, and chided them when necessary.

It's hard to believe, but when one of my teenage girls "jaunted off" in a tangent, Uncle Leck got in his car and went off to retrieve her. She was stubbornly walking down the street, chewing her gum when he pulled up beside her, rolled the window down, and jokingly asked, "Want some candy, little girl???" She burst into laughter and got in his car without a fuss. He just had a way with them.

Time has passed and now my children's children call him "Gruncle" Leck (Great-Uncle.) They also think he's wonderful and funny. He also gave them pet names, such as "Bisquick" or "Buck" or some other silly, magical name.

That kind of love is generationally contagious. We are very blessed!