My brother, Bruce, had the world by the tail…
Born in 1946, he was the first child, and ONLY child born into the Smith and Reed family post-World War II. As a result, he had loving parents, proud grandparents, and doting aunts and uncles. He was quite a precocious child with no competition for affection and attention from any other child.
Life was good for Bruce.
And then I showed up on May 11, 1951. My parents promptly moved his bedroom to a converted screen porch on the front of our house and I claimed his old room as my nursery, since it was closer to my parents’ bedroom.
Growing up, I got a lot of benefit from being the younger child. I always had someone to play with, and in Bruce’s case, he was a creative sibling. One summer we rearranged the storeroom behind our garage and turned into a “Space School.” This was about the time the Russians had launched the Sputnik satellite and the space race had begun!
Of course, Bruce designated himself as the “teacher” and our next-door neighbor, Jim, and I became his “students.”
One day my dad brought home a used mimeograph machine. The next day we established the K & B Publishing Company and began a weekly newspaper, “The Evergreen Times,” that we hand-delivered to our neighbors on Evergreen Street. (Of course, Bruce named himself the Editor and Publisher, while I was relegated to reporter and delivery boy.)
It became evident early in elementary school that Bruce was an exceptional student. He got perfect grades, excelled in science fairs and extracurricular activities, and showed signs of being gifted in music. His fifth-grade teacher, Mrs. Beagley, saw a spark in him and insisted that he begin piano lessons. My parents, on a limited income, scraped together enough money to rent a used piano and Mrs. Beagley quietly paid for his lessons.
Bruce flourished in junior high and high school….at Enochs Junior High and Central High. He was elected Student Body President at Central in 1964, Most Likely to Succeed, Most Versatile, and was named to the CHS Hall of Fame.
Years later, when I showed up at Central, I was often greeted with...” Ohh, so YOU are Bruce’s brother!” (The teachers did not mean this to be an endearing introduction. My reputation for being an average student as compared to Bruce had preceded me from my days at Enochs.)
Bruce graduated from Central as a National Merit Scholarship Finalist and was offered a “free ride” to Ole Miss on a Carrier Scholarship, which paid for all tuition, books, meals, and even a monthly living allowance. He turned down the offer because he wanted to experience “something different” and wound up at Tulane University in New Orleans.
After earning his BA degree in English from Tulane, he moved on to the University of Rochester in New York for his Master’s and Doctorate. His career as a professor of English with an emphasis in Shakespeare studies began at Georgetown University in Washington.
He became highly regarded as an expert in Shakespearean literature with an emphasis on “sound” in Shakespearean plays. (I have absolutely NO understanding of what this means.)
We had an Easter tradition at my parents’ home of having grilled burgers, baked beans, potato salad, and strawberry shortcake for Easter lunch. My family arrived at my parents’ house, and I noticed that my mother was standing at the sink with her back turned to the rest of us...not saying a word.
Something told me… “The vibes aren’t right here.” I finally asked... “what’s wrong?”
“You need to talk to your Daddy. It’s about Bruce.”
“Why…is he gay?”
“How did you know?”
My immediate response was...” Well, he’s my brother and he’s your son. We’re going to love him.”
Bruce was concerned about how I would respond to his news. He called me later that night to talk for a long time. He knew and respected my personal faith and convictions and he worried about our relationship moving forward.
“Well, you know the Bible is the source of truth for my life, and I personally believe in a literal interpretation. So, while I don’t accept this lifestyle as consistent with my faith, I will NEVER stop loving you, being proud of you, and enjoying our memories as well as memories to come.
To be honest, our relationship actually became closer after this. My mother struggled mightily with acceptance and questioned herself and her role in “causing” this. But my dad and I never let it affect us and we enjoyed many years together.
Bruce and his husband, Gordon, came home for a visit a few weeks ago at Easter. He met all five of his grand-nieces and nephews and we had a marvelous time reminiscing, spending time alone together and just talking.
He and I do not agree on much of anything politically or theologically.
Every Christmas he would give me a subscription to the New York Times, the New Yorker magazine, and The Atlantic. I accused him of trying to “radicalize” me to his liberal agenda.
But some of his tactics worked. It broadened my exposure to people, other beliefs, and viewpoints that I did not necessarily agree with but understood that others had a right to believe and live their life, just like I do.
My wife and I took a 50th Anniversary Rhine River Cruise two weeks ago. Bruce was so excited about our trip. He constantly sent me emails on things I should eat, places to see, and even various wines to try…even though he knew I didn’t drink! We talked for two hours on the phone the night before we left.
As soon as we landed in Amsterdam, I began to send him texts of pictures and places we had seen. A day or two later, I had still not received a response, which was unusual.
Two days into the cruise my wife and I had just sat down for our evening dinner. I made the mistake of checking my email and was horrified to see an email from his husband, Gordon, that he had found Bruce dead on the floor of his home office in Santa Fe, New Mexico.
“Stunned” is not a strong enough word. And being 5,000 miles away does not lend itself to beginning the grief process.
I recently finished a book by Jene Barranco, Michael Barranco’s widow. She talks about the “waves of grief” that come unexpectedly. I am afraid that I am just now experiencing the first waves of a hurricane that is coming as I say goodbye to Bruce.
I still love Bruce Smith, I am proud of him, and I am still proud to be his little brother…
Kendall Smith is a Northsider.
