My brother, forever young

Today is my brothers birthday, Ian would be 52. But he is frozen in time, as a spirited 23 year old. He died August 3rd, 1986, in an unusual summer avalanche on Mt Baker. There is a saying, "Don't speak ill of the dead", that holds us back from discussing the very human nature of the deceased. His death was a tragedy for his friends and our family,  I miss him daily, but he wasn't an easy older brother to grow up with.

As the youngest of four, I remember trying  to keep up with my older siblings ( Caroline, Ian, Brett- in birth order). My siblings are close in age, and I the afterthought 4 years later.   I took up all things boy: I shot arrows, helped build a fort in the yard, climbed trees, and hiked with enthusiasm. On hikes my brothers would play a game of prisoner, holding me back, then I would run as fast as I could until they inevitably caught me.  We then hid in the ferns waiting to scare our parents.

 My brother was many things, but easygoing was not one of them. He taunted me at an early age to toughen up- using his superior strength to make his point. Using climbing gear, he  hoisted me to a  ceiling beam at age 7, and left me there for over 30 minutes. A few months later he tied me up and put me in a toy chest, but let me out quicker. He could also be generous, helping me with homework or encouraging my skiing.

He grew out of bullying his two younger siblings in high school.  His last letter (when I was a freshman at UC Davis) complimented me on how well I was doing in school. I learned of his death when I was at an ecology field camp in Montana; an early morning phone call breaking the news. All these years later,  as appalling comprehension took hold of me, that moment stands as the the divide in my life, the before and after. Before, death was abstract; after, an ever present reality. He was larger than life to me, vibrant and fearless (he climbed Liberty Ridge , Mt Rainer,  among many other feats). He couldn't be dead... I saw him out of the corner of my eye for weeks, found myself expecting him to walk into the room at any moment.

He was authentic, ornery, enthusiastic, and I  hold his memory dear.