The first time I met my cousins was at a campground on a late afternoon. I remember it, the air was so golden it seemed thick. Vernon and I, both about 3 years old, simply looked at each other and wandered off to build a playhouse out of sticks. He had a plan in mind, and he'd sized me up as his kinda partner. My grandmother said she never saw two kids become friends so effortlessly. The only thing I didn't understand about Vernon was what on earth other people found so surprising or complicated in him.
My aunt is, well, I don't want to sound as I'm judging her, but she's never seemed at peace. Her whole existence seems chaotic in a way. My father says she has her own issues with drugs, but my father likes to feel superior and prolly says the same thing about me. Wouldn't surprise me if she did, though.
In the midst of her whirlwind, Shawn and Vernon grew up.
Shawn lived as he died. Quietly. Uncomplaining.
Vernon was not like Shawn. He was a man of action and outburst. He had a strong sense of justice and there must have been so much in his young life that seemed wrong.
When we were about 10, his mother complained that Vernon was loud and angry and getting in fights. My father said all he needed was some time around a MAN and invited Vernon to visit for the summer. Of course once Vernon was here he paid him even less attention than he did to us, but maybe that's just as well.
I saw the angry Vernon once, but for the most part he and I had an easy, understanding friendship. We kept busy and rarely said much. And in those long afternoons, I'd see him smile. I knew he liked me because I understood him.
He was an incredibly tough little guy. If he would have gotten into a fight with a tank, I'd have bet on Vernon. The one time he ever shouted at me was the time my brother, having figured out that Vernon was the youngest of the three of us, made some joke about us being in charge. I thought Vernon was about to chew through the fabric of time. This just WASN'T RIGHT to him and he was gonna DO something about it.
As we all grew up, Vernon channeled that notorious energy and drive in mostly positive ways. He got married, had two beautiful children.
And then the final injustice, the senseless death of his brother/best friend. Once again Vernon was pitted against a reality he couldn't change and couldn't stop fighting.
He had to DO something.
I'm not sure what drove him to take up the thing that killed his brother, perhaps he needed to rewrite it, and cheat death again and again. Maybe it gave him relief from reality. Maybe it had always been a weakness of his. I don't know exactly. But I understand it. And him.
He overdosed and died about a year after his brother.
Where ever Vernon is now, I think it matters to him that I understand.
My aunt is, well, I don't want to sound as I'm judging her, but she's never seemed at peace. Her whole existence seems chaotic in a way. My father says she has her own issues with drugs, but my father likes to feel superior and prolly says the same thing about me. Wouldn't surprise me if she did, though.
In the midst of her whirlwind, Shawn and Vernon grew up.
Shawn lived as he died. Quietly. Uncomplaining.
Vernon was not like Shawn. He was a man of action and outburst. He had a strong sense of justice and there must have been so much in his young life that seemed wrong.
When we were about 10, his mother complained that Vernon was loud and angry and getting in fights. My father said all he needed was some time around a MAN and invited Vernon to visit for the summer. Of course once Vernon was here he paid him even less attention than he did to us, but maybe that's just as well.
I saw the angry Vernon once, but for the most part he and I had an easy, understanding friendship. We kept busy and rarely said much. And in those long afternoons, I'd see him smile. I knew he liked me because I understood him.
He was an incredibly tough little guy. If he would have gotten into a fight with a tank, I'd have bet on Vernon. The one time he ever shouted at me was the time my brother, having figured out that Vernon was the youngest of the three of us, made some joke about us being in charge. I thought Vernon was about to chew through the fabric of time. This just WASN'T RIGHT to him and he was gonna DO something about it.
As we all grew up, Vernon channeled that notorious energy and drive in mostly positive ways. He got married, had two beautiful children.
And then the final injustice, the senseless death of his brother/best friend. Once again Vernon was pitted against a reality he couldn't change and couldn't stop fighting.
He had to DO something.
I'm not sure what drove him to take up the thing that killed his brother, perhaps he needed to rewrite it, and cheat death again and again. Maybe it gave him relief from reality. Maybe it had always been a weakness of his. I don't know exactly. But I understand it. And him.
He overdosed and died about a year after his brother.
Where ever Vernon is now, I think it matters to him that I understand.
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