PatriotSpectre's Book of Lore

Day of Infamy

Sun, 13 May 2007 04:27:21 GMT

Now we come to it. The reason I started writing in this journal, the reason I've told you my story. The moment I've dreaded writing about. 11 May 2006. 5/11. The day our world ended.

The morning of the 11th, all of us boys were worn out from the previous day's festivities, but happy beyond all reason. After all the stress and pain of the past month -- TJ's suicide, Ben's elopement -- it had all been too much. But after Greg and Anne's wedding, we felt like we'd reached a watershed, and things were starting to look up again. Sean had a bit of a mild hangover. The post-wedding bash was one of the few times I've ever seen him have one too many, but it wasn't awful. We all had a great time that night, if a bit...excessive.

That Thursday, everything was great. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, the whole bit. Ben and his...wife... had driven back the night before, and I was missing him, but still... we all felt on top of the world, and started to settle back into the routine of our lives.

In the afternoon, Adam wanted to go play soccer, so Sean and I walked with him up to the park. Like I said, it was a beautiful day. Sean looked so happy, like a great weight had been lifted off his back, and I think I understood why. But that might be a story for another time.

We played at the park for a couple hours, enjoying the rare time to just goof around with our little brother, who was growing up too fast. Watching Sean and Adam play, wrestle, and horse around... I have rarely felt happier in my life.

Then dinner time rolled around, and it was over all too soon... all of it... too soon... Damn. I don't know if I can get through this.

We walked home, chatting, everything seemed fine. Sean said he had a bit of a headache - he's always gotten migraines, so we didn't think anything of it. But as soon as we got to the driveway, he cried out in pain and collapsed. We had no idea what was wrong. Sean was conscious, but in a lot of pain, disoriented. I sent Adam in to fetch the others, and called 911. Nate and Walt ran outside... Sean was talking, his eyes didn't look good... He blacked out... Nate and I brought him around, but... something was dreadfully wrong. The EMTs got there... everything's a blur... I can remember snatches of it, but not everything... just this feeling of helplessness... Watching him slip in and out... I rode in the ambulance, Nate followed behind with Walt and Adam...

I held his hand the whole way, talking to him, trying to keep him focused... He came around once, squeezed my hand hard... and tried to talk. His eyes locked on me, he squeezed my hand, and said, " I love...you all..."

Those were the last words he spoke. He slipped back under, and they couldn't bring him around again. Rushed into surgery... nothing for it... he never came around. Internal bleeding got to him before the doctors could do anything. Ruptured cerebral hemmorhage.

Adam didn't say a word for two days. All I could do was hold him. Ben and Laura drove down from Boston... got there about 11... hours too late... Greg and Anne were in Miami about to get on a plane to the Caribbean when Nate got hold of them... he called in a favor, and got a friend's corporate jet to fly them back... again, too late. All we could do was hold each other...

It's been a year now... Damn it to hell... Sean is dead... he's gone...

An Interlude: Meet the DelVecchios

Sun, 08 Apr 2007 02:05:38 GMT

Before I get into the next chapter of this sordid saga, I need to pause and tell you about some people that I've mentioned once or twice in passing, but haven't talked much about. I really should have done before now, but here goes anyway:

The DelVecchios are a great family, and we've been friends since we first came to the States. Our house in Baltimore is just around the corner from theirs, and they were the first ones to really welcome us back in '93. Damn, almost fifteen years; I barely remember what it felt like before they were part of our lives. Greg is extremely tight with Vince and mum grew very close with Eleanor, in the short time she had left. Ellie is a remarkable woman, and has been a big influence on the boys, without her and Annie, they'd have no clue how to interact with, and respect, the opposite sex!

When we met them, there were eight kids in the family, five boys and three girls - they've added another six since (all boys, yikes!). And I thought ours was huge! I guess us big families stick together. If we hadn't hit it off like we did, if we'd hated each other, the neighborhood would have erupted into full-scale war. As it is, we're the first line of defense. The Guineas and the Micks. Well, the Micks and the Guinea-Micks - they're half-Sicilian, half-Irish, with a little bit of Jewish and Polish back there somewhere. It's a very volatile mix, heh.

So here's the rundown of that cast of characters, in order of appearance (or birth, hehe):

Timothy Joseph - TJ was the same age as Sean, born just a few days apart. They hit it off right out of the gate, almost like it was meant to be, and were best friends by the time we'd finished unpacking. Aside from sharing a name, TJ and I were a lot alike, despite the age difference. He was more quiet, and introspective than Sean, but much more athletic than me. I can see why those two stuck to each other like glue. Best friends through high school and college, and beyond.

Sarah Marie - Sarah was a year younger than her brother and Sean, but close enough in age to go toe to toe with both boys. Together, the three of them were unstoppable. She's always been beautiful, with strawberry blonde hair and that Italian complexion blended together in a most appealing way (at least, to Sean). Almost from the start, they developed feelings deeper than friendship. On again and off again for years, but never off because of anger or falling out of love, just because neither could settle down. And now, well, you'll hear more about Sarah soon.

Andrew Dylan - Drew, also known as ADD to his friends and tormentors, is just a couple months younger than me, and one of my best friends outside my brothers. We didn't quite connect as intensely as Sean and TJ did, but nonetheless, we've always been tight, counting on each other, blowing off steam together, just being there for one another. Drew was also the first person outside the family to really connect with Ben when he came home in '95, and they've been best friends since.

Patrick Francis - Frank is a marvel. We call him Saint on account of his name and being born on St. Patrick's Day in 1985. Don't call him "<strike>Pat</strike>" unless you want to get an uppercut to the jaw. Victim of middle child blues, he'd always tag along with Drew, but rarely in the annoying kid brother way. He's a great guy, a credit to both his namesakes. As time went on, he grew closer with my bro Nate than anyone else, kinda adopting that big brother/mentor/ringleader role, as he did for his younger sister:

Heather Nicol - Heather's the same age as Nate, a wee bit older in fact, but no matter. They went through that "Venus/Mars" phase, but once that was over, they've been pals. Nothin' romantic, though, aside from maybe playing postman once or twice, as far as I know. Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong, Nate! (hint, hint, hint!)

Joshua Kyle - Josh is Walt's best friend; he's about a year younger than my miscreant brother, and they are of a kind. I'm sure Walt's influence during his formative years was detrimental to his health, but he seems none the worse for wear. Just as random and funny as Walt, and just as prone to pranks and raising hell. That's why we call him the Joker or Just Kidding (his initials).

Amanda Sylvia and Aaron Rufino - Twins Mandy and Red (alias Aardvark) are about a month older than Adam, and to him, I'm sure they are family. Crib buddies from the start, and together ever since. The three musketeers, almost literally. They even look alike, red hair, freckles and all.

That was the DelVecchio clan at the time of our arrival in the States. In the succeeding dozen-plus years, they've added to it. Good ol' fashioned Catholic breeding programs, I guess. <snerk> But the funny thing is... the six new additions are all boys. Its like with our arrival, the testosterone quotient increased or something. Ellie says we're facilitators, that's a laugh.

The six little ones are Christopher Jonathan - Kit or CJ - born in 1996; Jacob Connor - JC or Jake - (yes, the "Connor" is after our family, quite the honor) - born in 1997; Daniel Tyler, born in 1999 when Ellie was Danny was quite the surprise, but not as much as the final additions: Todd McKintyre and Nicolas Brandon, a surprise second set of twins born on 19 September 2001. Ellie was 38, and after that, the docs said an emphatic "NO MAS! For the love of God, NO MAS!" <snicker> But they're great kids, all of them, and I should know, I've babysat enough.

I can't help but feel sorry for the three girls, with all that testosterone flying around, it's a wonder they don't pass out!

You'll be hearing more about them in the coming weeks, but especially TJ and Sarah. You need that background before I tell you what's gone on in the last year.

The Rover's Tale, Part XIV: The Triumphant Return

Sun, 08 Apr 2007 00:43:56 GMT

Benji and I returned to Dublin on 15 January, the same day Nate got there. We spent the week with him, and then flew back to Baltimore on 23 January, 2006. In five months, Ben and I had seen more of the world than most people see in a lifetime, and we'd reconnected with each other in a way I'd never thought possible.

Back home - and I only call it that because home is where our brothers are - we realized just how long we had been away. Sean met us at the airport - with a beard, something I thought I'd never see on him. It made him look a little like Timothy Dalton, which was scary. When we got to the house, it got even worse: Walt and Adam had both grown two inches a piece, voices had cracked and gotten deeper, but they were still the same kids we left behind and Adam threw his arms around me as I came into the house, nearly knocking me over. Walt was bouncing off the walls, same as ever, and he and Benji began to trade stories of amorous encounters.

Sean and I caught up on family business. The dogs had their shots, Adam's last report card had been straight A's, and there were repairs to the roof after one of Walt's bottle rockets backfired. In other words, status quo. I asked him how he and Walt had gotten on, and he blushed. I got the whole story from that; I knew I'd get the details from Walt later. He asked about me and Ben, and I must have been beaming. And then he got a call from Sarah, which raised my eyebrows. They were old friends, she's a great girl, and they had been dancing around each other for years, together on and off - they were good for each other, but neither one could quite settle down. It looked like things were back on for now, and I gave him a thumbs up. He grinned and flipped me the bird. Same old Sean.

The next few days went by uneventfully. Ben slept in our old room that first night, then went back to his apartment, but after one night there, he couldn't take being alone and came back to the house. It made me feel good, but I knew it was just an adjustment back to normality. He's always been one of us, even before we knew we were brothers, but there's something that's always held him back. I may never completely understand it, but I respect it.

Then Greg got back from Boston on Saturday, with Anne. From their expressions, we knew something was up. And then after dinner, steak and alfredo as I recall (yum), Greg let us in on the secret and Anne showed us her sparkling finger. Walt and Adam whooped with joy, Ben and Nate clapped, and Sean and I raced for the champagne. One of the boys - Nate, I think - shouted "It's about damn time!" and we all laughed.

We talked about dates, and where to have it, and who would be doing what. They definitely had their own ideas, but wanted input from all of us, and that was great. Eventually, they set the date for the 10th of May, in Baltimore, since that seemed the easiest place to coordinate everything.

The family was growing again... well, really, Annie had been family for years, but now it would be official. You would not believe how happy we all were. Flippin' delirious. On top of the world, if only for the blink of an eye...

The Rover's Tale, Part XIII: Points of Departure

Fri, 06 Apr 2007 06:42:39 GMT

The summer of 2005 passed as most did for us. The boys were off from school, Nate was home for the summer, and he and Walt took job at a nearby summer camp (Walt will probably tell you about his exploits - but I have a few juicy stories I can relate at another time). Sean and I both worked more, but not too much. We spent most of the summer around Baltimore, with a couple weeks in Chicago.

Ben went back up to Boston after Independence Day, living in Greg's flat there - I'm still not sure what all went on, but he needed the time on his own to get things sorted out. He came back to Baltimore in the middle of August, and seemed better than he had; not completely alright yet, but getting there. It was good to see the change.

Nate was preparing to leave for Dublin when I got hit by the bug. No, not a summer cold. That roving sickness that has driven many an Irishman to the ends of the earth. I called in my vacation time, arranged fill-ins and hatched a half-brained scheme to backpack across Europe. I told everyone my plans, looked at Sean and Ben both, asked if they needed me to stay. Sean was adamant that I should go, and he and Greg would look after things. Walt, of course, wanted to come, but we shut that notion down with the tried and true "get through high school, and then we'll see about getting crazy" adage. What surprised me, though, was that Ben wanted to come. Back from Boston, he had no firm plans for work or anything else. I jumped at the notion, and he seemed genuinely excited for the first time in ages. I wish Sean had come along, but he was content to stay behind and give the time to me and Benji. It was a grand thing of him to do...but I know we both wish he had come.

We arrived with in Dublin with Nate on the 1st of September, spent two days with him there while we finalized plans, and then headed out, stopping in Athlone to see the cousins before hitting Derry, Carrickfergus and Belfast. Good to be home (one of many) as it was, we weren't there for Erin's beauty this time - we were going to tackle the unknown.

And those are some stories that I'll tackle in other entries. All in all we spent five months traveling, from September to January, far more than just Europe. Every day deserves its own entry, but I'll just have to hit the highlights for you as the inspiration strikes. Those five months were like another lifetime, from Ireland to Austria, Italy, Romania, Russia, Greece and a dozen other countries. We even visited Casablanca in Morocco, and Cape Town and Johannesburg in South Africa. So many places, so much time, and yet looking back it seems both a lifetime and but the blink of an eye. I'll tell you all about it, maybe Ben will, too. But not today. It will be time to move on soon, and I just needed to set the stage. The details will wait for another frame of mind.

Ben and I returned to Ireland in mid-December. The others all joined us, and we spent Christmas together. Ben and I left again after New Year's, spent a little more time in London, and then went down under. A week in Australia, ten days in New Zealand. I couldn't have asked for more. I will remember those days for the rest of my life, Benji. I wish that time would never have ended. Could we go back a year and a half and just hold that moment in time, forever?

But know, we came back to the States, didn't we? It had to end, and life had to continue... if only I'd known then what was going to happen. It was the end of January, and we were so happy. We'd had the experience of a lifetime, and we were together again... best buds, brothers, children of the burning heart. And Sean was happy, and everyone else, too. If only I'd known... four months left, that's all we had. One hundred and eight days... I remember them all. It wasn't enough. Damnit, it could never be enough. So much life, and we had no clue...

Oh, Sean...

The Rover's Tale, Part XII: Wave After Wave...

Sat, 24 Mar 2007 02:25:54 GMT

In comparison, 1999 was rather uneventful. Sean transferred from Boston College to Towson University, back closer to home. He didn't have to, but he said he missed us, and it worked out well for him, I think. We spent time in Ireland again, of course, and a few weeks here or there in Seattle or Chicago. There were of course some special things - trips, reunions, the standard things of life. But I can't think of one in particular right now. Nate broke his arm playing paintball, Ben got pneumonia, Walt was as zany as ever, and Adam continued to astound us with his perceptive intelligence. It was a normal year.

The year 2000 saw a greater separation between us - not emotionally, just in terms of actual distance. Ben started college (doubling for his senior high school year) at Frostburg University in western MD (and of course continued to get in trouble there ;-); Sean went "home" to Ireland to finish out at Trinity Dublin. And me, I just finished High School the normal way, not wanting to leave the youngun's yet. I missed them both, and the reunions were tender when they were home - well, as tender as things ever got between brothers at least. Nate was 13, and he and I grew closer, as we looked after Walt and Adam. And those two were, it seemed at the time, getting so big. Alike in so many ways, and yet very different. At age 10, Walt was a holy terror - jetting around the house like a cyclone, pulling pranks at school, getting into all sorts of mischief. Adam - at six, just starting first grade. So timid with other kids, but soaking up knowledge like a man dying of thirst. He really reminded me of myself, he always has. He was too damn young to be so introspective.

And then came 2001. Sean finished at Trinity and came home - more mature than ever, more at peace with himself, and even more committed to the family. I finished high school, and received my appointment to the Naval Academy, something I'd been working toward for several years. It was what I wanted, and everyone was behind me. Ben had a similar desire, but enrolled in the Coast Guard Academy in Connecticut.

But neither one of our maritime military careers lasted as long as we had anticipated, though.

Mine was the first to go. I had barely been at Annapolis two months, almost through the Summer of Hell, when me and a couple mates were drawn into a ruckus. Some thugs jumped us, and though everyone made it through relatively okay, my leg took a beating and thus ended my naval career.

Between winter 2002 and Fall 2003, I bounced around from a community college here, to Boston College, to Washington State, to Trinity Dublin. I guess I was finding myself, and for once I needed to get away from everything. I spent 2004 in New Zealand, at Victoria College in Wellington, and finished up with degrees in communications.

Ben lasted in the CGA until his junior year, 2003. I'm still not sure on all the details - he kept that part of his life very private from the rest of us, and still doesn't like to talk about it. He enjoyed it as much as one can a military academy, loved his engineering studies, and fell in love with a local girl. Then it all fell apart - there was an "incident" with two other cadets that Ben was peripherally involved in, and was injured, but not badly enough that they'd discharge him. There were some disastrous problems with his girlfriend's family. And then some time later, he tried, unsuccessfully, to prevent his roommate from committing suicide. Now Ben's a tough guy, and can handle anything the world could throw at him - but all this heaped on at once was eating him alive. By mutual agreement, the Academy granted him an honourable discharge and he returned home for a while. He looked haunted, and withdrew into that shell of his. After a few months, he moved back up north and finished out at Boston College in 2005.

Nate had started college himself by then. He was local in 2004, and then transferred to Trinity Dublin in '05. Still there now, got about a year left. He comes home often, though, and of course for the summers. Got to love those frequent-flier miles.

For those years, I know Sean and Greg were worried about Ben and me both, and probably so were the others. We didn't cut ties at all, and were still close, but we had a lot of things to sort out on our own. The time away was ultimately a good thing. I came home first, in early '05, Ben just before summer. Things got back to normal, or as normal as they could be. Anne was coming to visit more often, and we all knew that she and Greg would wind up together soon. We were hoping and praying for it. After everything, he deserved to be happy again.

A Rover's Tale, Part X: The Passing of Seasons

Thu, 22 Mar 2007 06:19:27 GMT

The passage of time can be a strange thing. In some ways, the last twelve years have gone by in the blink of an eye, and yet they have been so full of...well, everything -- joy, sadness, hope, desolation, laughter, love and tears. As I write this, my mind is torn between continuing a somewhat linear narrative (that's the logical part of me), and just spitting out random bits as they come to me (that's where the "therapy" part of this comes in). There are things I want to tell you, but there are things that I must tell you before I get there. So, I suppose I'll summarize some things now, and expand on things as they occur to me later.

The second half of the 1990s, life was good. Things were as normal as they ever could be, and I saw my brothers grow up safe and happy.

It took Ben a while to get accustomed to everything, to living with us, and not worrying about being beaten up or beaten down. He and I had our share of adventures and misadventures. One of them, in particular, was a rather dicey affair, but it ended up all well, and really helped Ben to know he could trust us. In short, it involved bikes, a rainy day in the woods, and a rather sharp cliff. We both made it out with our necks and skins relatively intact, but it was traumatic, especially for Ben. He was stuck to me like glue for a while after that.

Meanwhile, the younger three were all growing fast. Wally was so bright, but seemed not to have an ounce of sense or restraint - he would vault from one extreme to the other so fast, it was like watching a pinball tournament. He was tested for ADD and ADHD, but wasn't either. Over the years, he's gotten better, but is still almost a walking nerve-end. All immediate sensory perception, no forethought (or at least very little).

Adam, the wee man, was the exact opposite. Preternaturally quiet, and aware of what was going on around him. He never cried much, even as a baby, but seemed so tuned in to other people. Greg said that mum told him I had been like that, and I guess I have always seen myself in Adam. Maybe that's why he's so special to me, but then, they all are. He was reading well by age four, and I soon got him hooked on Robin Hood, King Arthur, and Sherlock Holmes. Yeah, a lot like me.

And Nathan... well, Nate was just himself. He grew to love footb-- er, excuse me, soccer -- and always managed to make friends easily wherever we went. He really took his "big brother" responsibilities seriously, too, and always tried to keep Walt from getting into too much trouble.

We moved around some - Boston, Chicago, and Seattle mostly, with some international trips - and of course we went back to Eire as often as possible - but we always kept coming back to the house in Baltimore. Greg was always there for us, always the best dad he could be, though he was really more like the biggest brother of all of us. After mum died, he did withdraw a bit, emotionally. He never abandoned us, always loved us, but something in him buried itself with mum, and his eyes were sadder more often than not.

Sean...oh my, Sean. I don't know where to begin. I think back to those years, and I remember how much I loved my big brother. As close as Ben and I were, Sean and I were closer, still, in a different way. He was my rock, and I... I guess I kept him grounded, too, somehow. There were things that we shared... Well, for now, let me just say that there were some very unexpected twists in the road for me and Sean. Sometime, I'll tell you the story, and how it grew to encompass all of us.

But really, all five of us boys stuck close as bricks, and it was Sean that was the mortar. He did most of the rearing. The man I am - the men we all are - we owe to both Sean and Greg, but it all would have fallen apart without Sean there to keep us going. He sacrificed so much for us, always put us ahead of himself. When I got into high school too, I basically told him that he needed to have his own life, and I would pick up the slack. He reluctantly agreed to back off a little, just a little, and it was a good thing - he really came into his own then. Captain of the basketball team, not the most popular guy in school, but definitely on the A-list, and not because he shmoozed people, simply because he cared. The girls were all over him, too, and he didn't mind the attention.
And me? My family was as whole as it could be, and that was the best thing I could have hoped for. I made some friends, not many, but a few really close ones; and I started to come out of my own shell that I'd wrapped around myself years earlier.

Even though there were some ups and downs, life was good.

A Rover's Tale, Part IX: To Welcome Paddy Home

Wed, 21 Mar 2007 06:26:02 GMT

I'm going to try to get through this without breaking down. I hope.

November, 1995: We had been back in the states for a couple months and settled back in to our primary residence north of Baltimore. It still felt wrong without mum, but we were, as awful as it sounds, getting used to it.

We were all still pretty new to this holiday the Yanks called Thanksgiving, but we knew it involved turkeys and ham and pilgrims, and being thankful to God for the good things in your life, and of course Stove Top dressing. I couldn't get enough of that stuff (which might account for the bit of weight I put on between ages 12 and 13)...but I digress.

Ever since we got back, Greg and Sean had both been acting a bit odd. Making phone calls and trying to keep me from hearing, going out suddenly dressed to the nines - and for Sean that was *really* odd - Greg holed up in his office with all kinds of paperwork that I knew wasn't for his job. They'd sneak off and have conversations, and hush up when I walked by - it was all very peculiar, and I really began to get worried. If something else was going bad, I wanted to know. When I asked Greg, he told me that nothing bad was happening, and that I shouldn't worry. Sean said basically the same thing, but let me know that something was in the works - he wouldn't say what, be he promised me it wasn't bad. I didn't really know whether to buy it or not, after all we'd been through, but I trusted them both.
As Thanksgiving neared, I was really debating if I would get into the "spirit" of things. I had brothers I loved, and a good home, but mum was gone, and I just couldn't be thankful about anything with that shadow hanging over it all. But something else was behind the shadows.

About a week before the holiday, I woke up to find Greg and Sean had both gone off somewhere - no, they didn't leave me alone with the little ones, our neighbor Mrs. Preston was looking after us - she told me she wasn't sure where they'd gone, but they'd be back in a few hours. I didn't think much of it at the time, it wasn't that different from the rest of the oddities those last weeks.

It was after lunchtime when they returned. Mrs. Preston had just put Adam down for a nap. I was delicately trying to balance my other two little brothers' simultaneous need for attention by colouring with Walt while attempting to play Duck Hunt with Nate. Neither one was going well as you can imagine, and I was relieved when I heard Greg's car pull up outside. The door swung open as I was disentangling myself from the Nintendo wires, and in came Greg, as jolly as I'd seen him in over a year. He picked up Walt, and said to me and Nathan, "Don't just sit there boys, get over here." We knew something was up, and scrambled to stand by him. Sean walked in then, carrying a suitcase, and trying to hide a smile. He set the bag down, and when he stepped aside, I thought I was seeing things.

I'll never forget that first glimpse. Standing on the porch, hands tucked in his pockets, looking at his feet, like he didn't know if he belonged there. "BEN!" squeeled Walt. I stood in shock, mouth agape, my heart and eyes overflowing. Nate flew right past me, crashed into Sean, bounced off and threw himself around Ben. The "ooof" sound was what made me react, and I cried out as I ran to him. He was crying, too, leaning on me, all three of us. And then Sean and Greg started crying, too. They pulled us apart long enough to get us in the house - Ben hadn't said a word yet, and I don't think I managed anything intelligible myself. We just smiled at each other, both of us bawling. Nate was almost bouncing off the walls, he was so ecstatic. I finally managed to get my larynx in gear and said "welcome home," told him how much I'd missed him, that I loved him, just burbling it all.

Ben didn't say much, just "me, too" and "I missed you," and then the wiseass tough guy persona reemerged. That cloak of callousness had helped him survive, and I knew it was going to be a long time before he could put it away for good. Walt bounced on his lap, and Nate kept trying to wrestle with him, and I just watched. And then I looked at Sean and Greg, and hugged them both. They had made this happen, and damn them for keeping it a secret, but it was so good I couldn't be anything but elated. When things settled down a bit, we introduced Ben to Adam, and then Sean and I took him up to our room. We talked about bedroom assignments with Greg, tossed around ideas. We were going to shuffle things around and give Ben his own room if he wanted it, but he said he was used to being with someone, if we didn't mind. We gladly agreed, and settled on moving the extra bed into Sean's and my room, until we could really sort things out.

The rest of the day, I watched Ben closely. We joked around, poked fun at each other, and fell into our old habits of lovingly provoking each other easily. But I kept watching him. He kept a part of himself on guard, like he was afraid someone would come and take him back to the foster homes or the Brothers' school. Eventually the day wound down, and we dozed on the couch, watching The Rescuers Down Under. Sean was on one side of me, Ben on the other, with his head on my shoulder, Walt on his lap and Nate squeezed in next to him. Adam was asleep on Greg's shoulder in chair. The moment was so perfect, the only thing missing was mum. I started to cry again, but I held it in. If Ben could be the tough guy, I decided, so could I.

When it came time for bed, Sean and I helped Ben settle in. He let his guard down for just a minute, and said, "Please tell me I'm not dreaming." Sean pulled us both into a hug, and said "Welcome home. You're stuck with us now." We laughed, and told them both how much I loved them. Ben got this far away look for a minute, but smiled as we turned out the light. He was asleep in minutes, so exhausted from the day. Sean tucked him in, and then me, something he hadn't done in years. I grabbed his hand, and quietly thanked him. He just nodded and said, "See, Eeyore, I always keep my promises."

As I drifted off to sleep, I found that for the first time in ages, I had something for which to be truly thankful.

It's been a while...

Tue, 20 Mar 2007 06:48:21 GMT

I guess it's been more than six months since I posted anything here (or really anywhere, for that matter). Life got out of hand again, but we're just taking it all one day at a time. I was telling you my life story, and boring though it is, I'll probably continue that soon. I was also building up the nerve to write about all the things that happened in 2006, and that'll come in time, too.

Sean, I miss you...

A Rover's Tale, Part VIII: And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda...

Thu, 03 Aug 2006 03:34:34 GMT

It was April 1995 when Greg got a call about a job in Melbourne, Australia, and another one in Wellington, New Zealand. Some construction company needed an expert for projects beyond schedule or something like that. If he accepted, it'd mean anywhere from three to six months down under. It wasn't an easy decision, but it had to be made quickly, before they went with someone else.

Greg checked out all the details, and if he wouldn't be able to take us, he'd turn it down. But the company wanted him, and made arrangements to provide us with a house for the duration in Melbourne, and other accomodations in New Zealand. A tutor for me and Sean, too. All expenses paid. With a hefty paycheck, it was irrisitible. Besides, if Greg had turned it down, Sean would never have forgiven him. He'd wanted to go to Australia ever since we saw The Rescuers Down Under at the cinema in Belfast.

And so we went, Greg, Sean, me, Nate, Walt and Adam. Unlike our last trip across an ocean, we flew this time. We'd been on planes before, with all the hopping between coasts, but still this was exciting. Nothing but water beneath us, until we reached Hawaii. Greg had us leave a week early so we could enjoy the islands...but for me, it was anything but enjoyable. I hated the heat, and there was nothing for me to do. Sean and Nate, on the other hand, had a blast. Volleyball, hula lessons, Sean even went water skiing. The most fun I had was when we drove by the place they filmed Magnum, PI. I never want to go back there.

When my Hawaiian hell was over, we finally arrived in Oz. As a city, I like Melbourne. It's a grand place, and it reminded me of New York, a little, in some odd way. Sydney may be more "touristy," but Melbourne, to me, has much more substance. Back then, I loved it best of all the cities we'd lived in.

A couple days after we were settled into our extremely nice house provided by the company, our tutor arrived. "Miss Annie" we called her. She was very nice, and we liked her a lot, especially her accent, and the stories she told us about growing up with the Moriori people in the Chatham Islands (well off the coast of NZ). Her father was an oceanographer, and she told us a lot of stories about that, too. Sean developed a crush on her pretty quickly. I tried not to make fun of him for it, but sometimes my youth got the better of me. Greg liked her to, as it turns out, but I'll talk about that later.

It only took Greg two months in Melbourne to have things straightened out to the client's satisfaction, and then we went on to New Zealand. We all thought we'd been staying at another house in Wellington, but Greg had been keeping a surprise for us. We were going to stay with Annie's family on the South Island. They had a large vineyard near Blenheim, and it was just grand. That area of New Zealand has fairly warm summers, and pretty crisp winters...and it was winter. One of the best things about spending the summer months south of the equator is that, well, it's winter down under. As much of winter as it ever gets, at any rate. So I was in heaven. Nice and chilly, but not too cold. And lots of room to run, and hike, and we all just had a ball.

Greg was kept busy and spent most of the week in Wellington - a city plagued by tremors (why build a town right on a fault line???) - and then on Thursday would fly by helicopter back to the South Island, and have the weekend with us. It was a fantastic arrangement, and helped inspire my endouring love for that country. We saw nearly every inch of the country, and many of the outying islands - including Chatham Island were Annie had been reared. We all had a grand time, and I'll always look back on it as one of the defining eras in my life.

All tolled, we spent six months down under - two in Australia, and four in New Zealand. By the time we left in October, Annie had become another member of the family, like a sister (or as close as we'd ever have to one). We kept in touch, and she came to visit a couple times a year. Now, as to whether it was more us kids, or Greg she was visiting, well, I guess it was a bit of both... But that's years off, yet, and there's plenty of ground to cover before I get there.

Including a surprise that Greg and Sean had been working on for a long time...

A Rover's Tale, Part VII: The Traveler's Hornpipe

Fri, 28 Jul 2006 05:32:40 GMT

After mum died, Sean and I were worried that someone from "the system" would come and take us all away. Greg wasn't even 25 yet, and he was now the guardian of five young boys. But the fight that we expected never came. Mum had made a will when she realized that she wouldn't make it, and I'm sure Greg's father - a pretty big attorney - saw to it that it was honored.

Life was so different. Greg through himself into work. Not that he abandoned us, or wasn't around. He was always there for us, but he wasn't necessarily there for himself, if you understand. Greg had a lot of connections in the engineering world, and he gained a good reputation in a pretty short time. Not 25 yet, and he was already in demand for jobs around the country, and beyond.

So for the next year or so, we traveled a lot. We got to see a lot of the major cities in the country, but our longest stints were in Boston, Seattle and Chicago (Greg's hometown). Those three cities were great, though each of us has a different "favorite," and for different reasons. Sean loved Boston - there were so many Irishmen about - real and "Yank-rish" - he ate up the culture. He'd be sneakin' off to the pubs, trying to get in and usually failing. I loved it when Sean brought me along, especially when some old geezer fancyin' himself a shanachie would come along and tell stories of the old days.

In Chicago, Greg would take us to Cubs games, and even though they lost, we all loved them. The Irish have always related to the underdogs. Nate became a big Cubs fan, and to this day still treasures his Sammy Sosa-autographed ball.

I liked them all, but Seattle was by far my favorite. Everyone else except Adam thinks I'm nuts, but I loved the rain and the fog. It's just my personality, I guess. I love the rain. And the hiking trips up Mt. Rainier were simply grand, too. And, before you ask, it's close, but I'll still take the Cubs over the Mariners.

Three months in Boston, four in Chicago, three in Seattle, with little "side trips" to other cities for a few days here and there. I am so glad we were only in LA for four days. And Greg didn't take us with him on all the little excursions - if he was going to be gone for just a couple days we'd stay with friends or relatives. But usually we were with him.

It was a long year, but all the activity helped us get through the sorrow. And because we didn't really have anyone else, we all clung to each other. Sean and I had always been close, but we grew so much closer, and looking after the younger ones became a bit of a shared responsibility - though at 11, my "big brother" skills paled in comparison to Sean's at 14. So many memories from those months, there are so many incidents that deserve their own place, so I'll hold off for now.

The traveling didn't end in Seattle, though. From there, well, it got even more interesting.

A Rover's Tale, Part VI: The Orphaned Ramblers

Sun, 23 Jul 2006 05:21:15 GMT

The funeral was on 23 June, 1994, and I turned 11 the day before. And people wonder why I never want to celebrate my birthday. I actually don't remember much from either day, and the it's the little things that I do remember. Standing in front of a mirror and Sean helping me with my tie. Watching Greg as he tried to hold it in. The roses by the graveside. The smiles that failed to touch anyone's eyes. And the rain.

It poured when we laid Mum to rest. And I was glad for it. Not only did it fit my mood, it just seemed right. I grew up on old movies, and it always rained at funerals. So, in my mind, it simply had to rain. And it did, like a storm on the Mayo coast. Sean tried to keep me under the umbrella, but I kept wriggling away from him. I wanted to stand in the rain. I wanted to feel God's tears. I wanted it to wash away the whole in my heart. I wanted to get a chill, so at least I could feel something besides the dull, numb ache. I stood in the downpour so long that my suit shrunk several inches. I didn't mind, I never wanted to wear the damn thing again.

I did succeed in getting a chill, actually. After the funeral, we went home and lit the fire, and Sean sat me down in front of it, wrapped me in blankets, and just held me tight. Greg put the younger ones to bed, and sat down with us. The three of us just sat and stared into the fire. I shivered a lot, I fear, and Sean just rocked me back and forth while Greg rubbed my back. I fell asleep after a while, and Greg left for the wake. Sean stayed with me, cuddled with me on the sofa.

A lot of the memories of those days are gone, but I do remember the dream I had then. Upset and a little feverish, it was one of those nightmares that haunts you forever. It was nighttime, and I was in a van, going for a ride somewhere in Belfast. Mum was sitting next to me. As the street lamps passed by, her face kept changing, from a smile to a horrible angry grimace. Then the lights went away, and the van stopped. They opened the door, and she threw me out onto the cobblestones, in front of a church. Statues of archangels towered overhead, and I was more scared than I had ever been. There was laughter, and I realized that Ben was there, pointing at me and laughing. Then she called him into the van and they drove off, leaving me there in the muck. As if that wasn't weird enough, Greg appeared, climbing down from the steeple, and he was blind. When I saw his empty eye sockets I screamed...

...and woke up in a cold sweat, with Sean murmering in my ear, trying to soothe me with a cold compress on my forehead. I started crying and said something like "Sean, please don't go. Don't ever go. Everybody leaves. Mum and Da left. And we left Benji behind. Don't go. Please, Seannie."

And he grabbed me and hugged me, and said "I'll never leave you, Timmy-o. I'm always gonna be here, Eeyore. Right with you, no matter what."

I sniffled and looked at him, eyes watery. "Puh-puh-promise?"

"Uh-huh. I promise."

And then I remembered my promise to Ben, and I started crying again. "We left him, Sean. I told Benji we'd always be his family, and we left him behind." I was sobbing. I cried more over that than I had over mum. Maybe I was avoiding the real issue and transferring my grief to something else, but it doesn't really matter.

Sean looked at me, and said. "We'll bring him home, Tim. I promise. And you know I always keep my promises. We'll bring Ben home."

Some of the details are fuzzy, but that's what stands out in my mind to this day. Sean's words. "I always keep my promises. We'll bring Ben home."

And from that day on, he set himself to make good on that promise.

A Rover's Tale, Part V: Down By the Sally Gardens

Mon, 17 Jul 2006 05:44:48 GMT

It was on March 15, 1994 that we got the news. I remember that day so well, almost everything about it still sharp in my mind, more than twelve years later.

Sean had turned 14 a couple weeks before, andI was still three months shy of my eleventh birthday. With St. Patrick's Day just ahead, the house was decorated - not garishly, but tastefully. A shamrock here, a green cloth there, and traditional music playing most of the day. Sean and I had come in from playing football (that's soccar for you yanks), or rather I'd been attempting to play as Sean ran rings around me trying to "hone my skills."

Mum was in the kitchen doing dishes. She was singing, and that instantly told me something bad had happened. It was 'Down by the Sally Gardens,' one of her favorite songs - Greg sang it to her at their wedding - and she only sang it when something was wrong. When she needed to be comforted. 'Mum?' I said.

She turned and saw us, and I could tell she'd been crying, though she tried to hide it. She said, 'Sit down, lads' and then called to Greg, who came downstairs. He saw us, and his face made something that was almost a smile, but not quite. Such a sad look, I don't think I'll ever forget it. He went over to mum and held her hand. 'Adam's fine now,' he said. 'Little bugger needed a fresh diaper. Nathan and Wally are asleep.' Mum nodded, they sat at the kitchen table with us.

'Boys,' said she, 'We've found out something today, and I know it's no use trying to keep it from you...' She looked away, and then at Sean. 'You'd only keep digging 'til you'd found your answer,' and then she looked at me, 'and you would just pay too much mind to things that you shouldn't even notice at your age and put it together yourself. It would only harm you both worse that way, when the time came to be tellin' you, so we've got to tell you now.'

With that kind of a buildup, every nerve in my body was on edge, and I was probably near tears, without even knowing what had happened. I look at Sean, and he just nodded. 'Tell us. We can take it.'

She sighed, put her hands in her face for a moment. All the while, Greg kept holding her hand, his other arm around her back, as inscrutable as I'd ever seen him.

Mum looked up at us, and asked us if we remember she'd been to the doctor the week before. We nodded, and she went on to explain that she'd had some tests done, and the results had come in. She and Greg had gone to the doctor's that morning, while we were at school. I could tell she wished she'd never gone to get the tests, let alone the results.

'Lads, I have cancer.'

I didn't know much about cancer - just that there were different kinds - and it killed a lot of people. But Sean was more 'with it," and his jaw dropped open wide. 'It's not a bad kind, is it?' he asked. That question - the hopefulness - the fear - the innocence of it remains emblazoned on my memories of that day.

She didn't want to lie to us, knew that we could tell. So she nodded, and told us what she thought was appropriate. 'It is one of the bad kinds, but not the worst.'

Sean and I both got up and went over to hug her. I started crying, and then Sean did. First time I'd seen him cry in ages. Pretty soon all four of us were crying, and hugging each other. It seemd like hours before we stopped.

Greg spoke, then, after the sobbing had subsided. 'We're going to fight it. We're going to beat it.'

And fight it we did. Some kind of breast cancer that I'm not even going to try and spell, and it hit hard, and fast, and she fought it head on, with everything she had.

But in four months time, the fight ended. She lost, and we lost her.

A Rover's Tale, Part IV: The Green Fields of Amerikay

Wed, 12 Jul 2006 04:43:44 GMT

Well, Greg and Mum tried to get custody of Ben, but the courts just wouldn't have it. They weren't happy about how young Greg was, and said that since there was no 'true parental relation,' they wouldn't let Ben come with us because there were already five lads in the household and it would be too much of a burden. What shite that was. But appeal after appeal, there was nothing we could do. We kept in touch with Ben, as best we could, though with each new school or home it would take time for us to find each other again.

And then a short while after Adam was born, Greg was promoted and transfered to the States. Not what any of us wanted at all, to leave Ireland, me least of all because it meant leaving Ben behind. But there was nothing for it. If Greg turned it down, he'd have to start over again, with a new firm, and that just wouldn't be possible, not with so many mouths to feed. It was late November when we got the news, and they wanted Greg to start in the States in January. That only gave us about a month to say goodbye to everyone we knew, and to Ireland herself.

On 20 December, Ben and I bid a solemn, tearful goodbye, and Sean promised us both that he would find a way to make it possible for us to really be Ben's family. Even at 13, Sean took his promises very seriously, and that's one he never forgot. He was always trying to help, trying to make everything all right. It would only take a couple years for us to see a reason for that.

We left the next day, by ship, because at four weeks old, they didn't want to risk taking Adam on a transatlantic flight. We arrived in Baltimore on 23 December, and it really was a whole new world for us. The city was so much bigger than Belfast, so much more crowded, and the people were so different. Everything was different. The very air. All of us lads were overwhelmed, a bit scared, and more than a little sad.

And then we saw the house. It had belonged to Greg's grandparents, and he'd inherited it from them. And it was amazing. Easily three times the size of our house in Belfast, with more than an acre of land around it, and best of all, far enough away from the city that we could acclimate to life as Americans at a reasonable pace, while still being close enough that we weren't in the middle of nowhere.

Spending Christmas not only in a new house, but a new country, was quite odd, but at the same time it was exciting. But for the most part, I just kept thinking about Ben, left behind, alone (basically) on Christmas. The move was distressing enough in itself, but one of us was missing, and everything felt wrong.

Even so, it was the calm before the storm. And what a storm...

A Rover's Tale, Part III: The Boys of Belfast

Tue, 11 Jul 2006 07:45:24 GMT

Not long after Walt was born (June 10, 1990), we moved back up north. Greg was finished at the AIT, and had gotten a job working with the Royal Navy in Belfast (but I can't hold that against him!). Sean was 10 now, I was 7 and Nate was just 3. We didn't particularly want to go back up north, as we'd gotten used to Athlone, and it was home now, but West Belfast wasn't all bad. There were worse places than Newtownbreda to be.

I even made friends in primary school, something that I had more or less given up on. I was a loner by nature, and just never really clicked with anyone, unlike Sean, who was always one of the most popular boys around. That's just the way he was. But in Belfast, this time around, there were a couple lads that I became mates with, even though, with one, it took a lot of time and effort.

I met Ben Donovan the first day of school, and I wish I could say that we and I hit it off right away, but that was so far from the truth, you'd be amazed. He was about a month older than me, and a bit shorter, but more of a scrapper and much more street savvy. I don't know what it was, but that first term Ben and I got on each other's bad side instantly. We'd do everything in our power to annoy each other, to cross each other, to get each other in trouble. It was simply horrific...and yet, extremely fun. Funny thing was, when someone else would pick on one of us, we'd each stick up for the other, even to the point of bloody bouts in the schoolyard. Gave the teachers quite the workout, too.

Over the break, and the next term, we found ourselves spending a lot of time together, and the hostility was replaced with rivalry, which eventually gave way to friendship. As we hung out and we began to open up to each other, I discovered things about his past that, to my 8 year old mind, made sense of our unusual bond.

He had been bouncing around "the system," in and out of foster care and boy's homes for almost as long as he could remember. His parents hadn't been married - well, his mother was, to another man. They lived in Derry. She'd had an affair with a "Yanker" as Ben called him. Somehow, the truth came out when he was 3, and his stepfather wanted nothing more to do with him. So his mother gave him up to his father - who kept him all of two weeks, before dropping him off at a church in Belfast and vanishing into the fog.

I understood abandonment issues all too well, and that common thread helped forge an even deeper bond between Ben and myself, and in the space of a few months, we were the best of friends, and totally inseperable. Of course, we'd still kick the shite out of each other from time to time, but what's a few black eyes and bloody lips between best mates?

It was after one of these dustups in the summer we turned 10 that Benji and I were cleaning ourselves up in the attic, and I came across an old box of photos and started looking through them. I wanted to show Ben pictures of me and Sean from Carrickfergus, but the photos went back further than that - including one of my father holding me after I was born. I pulled it out, and Ben just froze up, his mouth opening and closing like a salmon.

I asked him what was wrong, and he said, 'Where'd you get that?' I told him we'd always had it. He kept shaking his head, and said 'I swear that looks just like my Da'.

It couldn't be...could it? I rejected the notion and said 'That's impossible," but still I asked, 'What was your da's name?'

'Charles Murdoch,' says he...as my jaw hits the floor.

We'd been going by mum's maiden name (O'Neill) for a while, and after the move to Belfast, had taken on Greg's, so he'd have no way of knowing that 'Murdoch' was our old bastard's name.

'Do you have a photograph?' I said.

Ben nodded and told me that there had been one with the things that were left with him at the church, and he'd kept it (subconsciously wishing that his dad would return for him). I tucked my photo in my pocket and we both made a dash for his house, only a few blocks away. I'm sure we ran in like a herd of elephants, but we didn't care. We ran to his room, and he pulled out a little box from under his bed, which held a pocket knife, some stamps that he'd collected, and a couple photos, one of his mother and her family, and the other of his father...

He pulled it out, and we held it and mine together - and then looked up at each other in amazement when we saw that it was the same 'Charles Murdoch'. My jaw dropped open then and I let out a low 'Jeus, Mary and Joseph' as I sank to the ground. I looked at the photos again, and the realization that my best friend was suddenly my brother - had been my brother all along - hit me all at once. I didn't know whether I should laugh or cry, but after a couple reflexive tears, I settled on the former. And Ben laughed, too. We both laughed so hard that our sides hurt, and I'm sure we scared his foster parents.

When the laughter subsided, we each began a flurry of words, mostly along the lines of 'how cool is that?' and ran back to my house. We showed Sean first, and after about ten minutes, the implications of the photographs sunk in, and he nearly lost it as badly as we had.

Then we showed Mum and Greg, and their reaction was less like 'Oh my god, that's awesome!' and more like 'Holy shite, what do we do now?' Mum (who at this point was pregnant again, with Adam) said she knew that Da had affairs, but had no idea about a child. And she felt so sorry for Ben, and so did Greg, and all I could think about in my ten year old enthusiasm was that he could come live with us, and he'd have a family.

Greg and Mum said they'd do their best to make that happen, but once again, life intervened...

A Rover's Tale, Part II: Where the River Shannon Flows

Tue, 11 Jul 2006 06:13:38 GMT

'Twas at Christmastime in 1988 that Greg came into our lives. An engineering student in Athlone, Greg Connors was a friend of mum's family, and he came to stay with us for the holidays in Carrickfergus. Another Yank, but the farthest thing from ol' Chuckles you could get. A real good egg.

Greg and mum struck up a friendship, that pretty soon developed into something more, and they tied the knot in August of 1989. He was nearly a decade younger than mum, but that didn't make much difference. She was 27, he was 19. Only ten years older than Sean, he was more of a big brother to us than a stepdad, and we loved him.

We moved down to Athlone with him when the school term started again at the Institute of Technology. A good house, and plenty of fun to be had for us, away from all the shite going on Up North.

The next summer, Walt was born. As a wee tyke he was a handful, and has only become moreso with each passing year. But I love the scoundrel. He makes life so much more...interesting...

We all have a lot of good memories of Carrickfergus and Athlone, because that's where our new life had its grand beginning. I'll share them at some pont, I'm sure. Right now, I really want to get the basics out, so you'll understand where we've come from, and what's going on in our lives now.

A Rover's Tale, Part I: The Early Years

Fri, 07 Jul 2006 07:56:57 GMT

My name is Tim Connors. Well, at least it is now.

Back when I was born, it was Brian James Timothy Murdoch, but for the most part, everyone just called me 'Tim'. Things have changed a lot since then. 'Then' being 22 June, 1983, when I was born in Belfast, Co. Antrim, Northern Ireland. I was the second son of Charles and Eileen, and my elder brother Sean always said he remembered the day because when the doctors told 'Da' that I was a boy, he jumped up so quick that he knocked a marble statue of the Virgin Mary off the wall and then blamed it on Sean when the priests walked in. But that was 'Da'.

My father was Yank from New York, who emmigrated - more like escaped - to Ireland and worked the docks in Belfast. He was also a bloody bastard. At least that's what my mum used to call him under her breath after he left us, and I'm inclined to agree with her venerable assessment. It takes more than just your average gobshite to abandon a wife and two young boys (with another on the way, and not to mention the son of a married mistress). That's what my so-called father did. He left in '87, the day before my third birthday, less than two months before Nathan was born.

After 'Bonny Prince Charlie' disappeared, we moved in with mum's family in Carrickfergus - one of the few places that I still think of as home today - and things were pretty much on an even keel for a single-mother-family in Northern Ireland the mid-80s. Which is to say that mum made ends meet, but not much more, and that's just fine. We never had to go without the necessities, even if there wasn't always a second helping or a cookie after supper. We got by, and the three of us boys had a grand time, when the Troubles didn't get in the way of our fun.

That brings us up to about 1989, and it's a decent place as any to pause for now.

Part II to come sometime in the few days.

A Rover's Introduction

Fri, 07 Jul 2006 06:36:04 GMT

Greetings, gentle reader,

I've had this journal for several years now, and have never used it before now. I'm not much of a talker, but recent events have left me with a desire to tell my stories, share memories of my brothers, the places I've lived, people I've known, and generally just vent. You may find some of these stories intriguing, some distrubing, but mostly, I predict, just boring. We shall see.

The tales will begin presently.