2:44 AM, and all seems to be well.
During the course of my work night, it dawned on me that my brother leaves for the Navy in a couple of weeks. This really started to choke me up for a bit.
I remember the day my parents informed me of this guy coming into the world. We lived in a little house in Meridian, Idaho. Nothing but fields, farms, and small, suburban neighborhoods as far as the eye could see back then. No Old Navys, ShopKos, or even an Albertson's back then (We had a Smith's. Huge difference.). I had been an only child this entire time, and, to be honest with you, spoiled rotten. Life was good in those days; family vacations, I got whatever the hell I wanted, my room was like a video game nerd factory, etc. It was early Spring, and my dad called me into the dining room to inform me of the news. The banter went a little something like this:
"Your mother has something to tell you."
"No, your father has something to tell you."
This shit went on for a good 5 minutes.
Then, the news came out:
"We're having a baby."
POW! Right in the mug. After 10 years of telling me that I was special, that I was the only one, they dropped that bomb on me...
Me eyes welled up with tears.
"What?! You lied to me!!"
I immediately went into my room, and stewed. I was irate. I decided, at that exact moment, that the next 9 months of their lives would be a living hell. I didn't speak to them. If I did, it was short, and to the point. We even went on a big Disney World cruise vacation, but I would have been goddamned if that didn't stop ME, Ryan Sampson, from being special (By the way, I still act this way. I don't know how I got it, I just did, so get off of my back, and read, dick.).
Fast forward 9 months. Halloween, 1989. Sitting around the dinner table with the folks, my mother told me that she was going to be having the baby that night. I was in the 5th grade, and I had a VERY important boy/girl party to go to. I was dressed as Jason from "Friday the 13th", and this was quite important to me.
After the party, my grandparents had picked me up, and informed me that Mom was in the hospital in labor. I grunted a bit, and we were on our way. Shortly after, I passed out in a chair at the hospital, awaiting that bundle of hate destined to ruin my life.
About 5 in the morning, on November 1st, I was woken up by my family to meet and greet this little whatever.
I sat in the delivery room glaring at the family members, as they tossed the devil back and forth, showering him with love, and being so happy that I could have just thrown up. Then, the inevitable happened...
"Ryan, would you like to hold him?"
I couldn't be THAT big of a jerk. I held the 8 lb. 15 oz. bundle in my hands, and the damnedest thing hit me. I liked this guy. He was kind of cool, and I guess I COULD be "Big Brother". I mean, I do have 10 years on this kid, right?
Years and years went by. When he was growing up, my parents always said that he didn't have the same passion for music that I did, although he was, and still is, a genius on the piano, but I still have a hunch that they didn't spoon-feed him music, like they did with me, for a reason. I guess I understand that reason now.
When he hit about 15, I started seeing him around. He would come to our shows, shows with bands that I liked, and he knew all the lyrics. He didn't turn into an emo/"pop" punk, Bieber banged, douchebag. He loved punk rock, ska, oldies, country. He was me...but better. He strived in school, gaining straight A's in every class, respecting authority (or maybe not getting caught), and wanting more than to try to attempt to be Billie Joe Armstrong, and nothing else.
By the time he graduated high school, he was a machine. This kid was at the gym, playing Lacrosse, but still punk as fuck. He always seemed to be able to leave the gym just in time for a Suicide Machines show.
Over the last 2 years, he has become my best friend. He tried leaving town to go to for a semester, and realized it wasn't for him. He called me every day from Pocatello to talk. I don't know if he needed his big brother, or if he just needed a taste of home. Regardless, I was the voice that he wanted to hear.
In 2 weeks, he leaves for the military. I have a sense of jealousy there, and I can't put my finger on why. I don't know if it's the fact that he has everything going for him, the fact that he can steal every girl in the room, or if it's just the fact that I'm the one that needs to talk to him every day at this point.
What was originally a hate filled monster, turned into my best friend, and the only guy that truly understands my temper, frustrations, and just all around life. He did everything the complete opposite of me, and I feel that he's been much better off doing so. The fact that he's doing what he's doing is a huge compliment to my family. I couldn't do it because A) I hate authority, and B) I'm a pussy.
I love him, and he better take care of himself, or the United States Military is gonna have my mother to deal with. I don't wish that on anybody.
As I sit here (slightly sobbing, might I add), I raise my glass up to him. He's already a hero in my eyes, and he doesn't even know it.
Here's to you, Nasty.
I'm glad Mom and Dad didn't name you Tucker. Your life would have been Hell.
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