I'll always think of the three families I grew up with: my Mom's side, my Dad's side, and us, as my Mom's side being the wilder group, my Dad's the more conservative, and us right smack in the middle. My cousins on my Mom's side were very interesting to me as a simple, Midwestern kid: they were far more cosmopolitan. They traveled all over, they did dangerous things that I'd never consider doing. They were exciting. On my Dad's side, my cousins were nice and fun, but not going to be jet-setting to Martha's Vineyard, or discussing R-rated movies with their parents. Just not gonna happen.
My cousin Rob is the adopted youngest son of my Aunt Jo and Uncle David. He was as wild as they came, and whenever we got to spend time with them, and it wasn't very often, it was always something that left lasting impressions on me. I just wanted to write down a few of these today.
Going to Camp
When we were kids, we would visit their summer home in Vermont. Stop right there - a Summer Home... in Vermont. Come on! How cool is that? Answer: Super Cool. They got to have a summer home on the side of a mountain. For kids, that's about as cool a summer place as there is.
As I was saying, we'd go to Vermont and a few times, Rob and his sister, my cousin Ann, would be at camp. Now this wasn't some wussy Church Camp like I'd been to... no, this was super cool, with cool people and all. I'm sure this was just a camp, but to me at the age of 9, it was as cool as it got. They just oozed cool.
Back then I just wished I was a tenth as cool as Rob - we were about the same age, I think he's about a year older than me, but no more. I'll never forget parts of the song they sang at their final concert... Something about a hen laying eggs now, every since that rooster came back in the yard... Too cool.
The Matches
One summer, I'm not sure which, Rob, my brother Terry, and I were playing on these enormous rocks in the yard of the house on the mountain. These rocks are about the size of a VW Bug - maybe some bigger. They are a formidable place to play as a kid, because you can play on them for hours and never touch grass. It was a blast.
This particular summer we seemed to have a pension for burning things. In retrospect, on the rocks, there was very little we could do. However, had the matches hit the long, dry grass at the base of the rocks... well... then we might have had a much different story. So we're on these rocks, and Rob had several packs of matches, and we were building little huts of sticks and grass, and then lighting them on fire and making story lines about the poor people inside.
Typical boys, and typically dangerous.
So as we're done, I put the pack of matches Rob gave me into my pocket - just to be cool. I was really glad he didn't ask for them back. You see, matches were completely forbidden in my house. There had been too many incidences of trash cans set on fire, and houses burned to the ground for my Mom to allow kids, and we were kids, no mistaking that, to walk around with the ability to make us all homeless.
That evening when I was getting ready for a tub, I was sitting on the bed as I took off my pants. My Mom was right there, and before I knew it she had picked up my pants! I panicked! "They're Rob's!" I said very fast and far too loud. She had a very puzzled face until her hand hit the fateful pocket and then it turned very quickly to anger.
I totally ratted him out. I left out the part where I thought it was cool... where I thought it was neat... I just said they were his, and totally dumped it at his feet.
I'm sorry, Rob. I never should have said that.
My Grandparent's 50th Wedding Anniversary
Many years later my Mom's parents were having a big 50th wedding anniversary bash. It was going to last a week. Big Deal. My Mom and her sister and brother rented a cabin at the local lake for all the grandkids, in a move of unspeakable trust, and foolishness, they failed to staff it with a single parent.
Not one.
So here are ten teenagers living in a house on a lake for a week. Can you possibly spell d-i-s-a-s-t-e-r more clearly? I can't imagine doing it now, but they did it then.
So we're staying at this cabin, and it's a blast. I can't remember who started it, but we had the longest game of ping-pong round-robin I've ever played. It was really fun. But then Rob got the idea that the firecrackers he brought needed to be put to better use than tossing into the lake to make mini-depth charge columns of water.
So out comes the can of gas for the boat.
He splashes a little on the ground, lights a firecracker, and drops it into the middle of the "spill". A few seconds later, BANG! and then the flames leap up, and go out a few seconds later.
COOL!
SO for the next 20 mins or so, he plays dumping a little more gasoline each time. Finally, he has a dud of a firecracker. After it fizzles, he picks it up and before he lights another one he "re-applies" the gas to the spot. Yeah... you can see this a mile away...
This time, the BANG! is accompanied by flames about six feet high, and licking up the side of a tree! For a few seconds I thought: "Oh no! We've set the house on fire!" - right back to the matches incident! My Mom is going to kill me!
Thankfully, it died down and we didn't continue with this particular set of experiments any longer. Rob, thanks for teaching me not to "re-apply" gas to the mix.
Rob, the Boy, the Myth, the Legend
Over the years, I have thought a lot about all the things I was allowed to participate in with Rob. There was the time he, Terry and I tied up my little sister's Snoopy stuffed animal and hung it from the third-floor staircase in their house in Englewood, NJ. It was cruel to my little sister (I'm sorry, Elaine), but to be included was to be special. He allowed me to be included when my brother Terry didn't.
Rob was always cooler, seemed smarter, seemed to have everything I wish I had. Just an amazing guy to look up to.
This morning, I got this email from my Mom:
Dear Ones,
Aunt Jo just called and they received word that Rob had committed suicide in a motel in San Diego. He had been drinking again and who knows what demons tormented him. But he put an end to his suffering. Sadly he left a young son to try to deal with the aftermath. As of right now, Jo and David are still heading to VT via Indy. That may change if they should decide to turn back west.
I'll keep you updated. I love you all. Mom
I don't understand. I don't think I'll ever understand. Mostly, I feel guilty. I hadn't been in touch with Rob a lot in the recent years. I knew he did a stint with Ziff-Davis on the technology scene out on the west coast, which, of course, only added to his "cool factor", but I hadn't taken the time to get in touch and see what he was up to.
All this technology and I never dropped him an email.
What kind of cousin does that make me?
It's the first time I've really known someone that killed themselves. I realize that it really does leave people wondering what could I have done? It's inevitable, I guess. I just wish I'd reached out... maybe I wouldn't have changed a thing, but maybe I would. I'll never know.
I get bummed like everyone else. But I just can't imagine how horrible his life must have been for him to believe this was the best thing to do this week. Maybe it was just loneliness, I can only imagine. I really wish I'd have tried to reach him.
But I have these stories to tell my kids, and in that, I guess, Rob still lives: The Myth, The Legend.
I'm sorry, Rob.
