The One Block Rule: A Tribute To My Brother

Next week I will fly to Chicago to celebrate my brother's graduation from Kellogg, one of the most prestigious business schools in the U.S. It should be a great weekend for him and our family as we all share our pride with him and witness the finality of this accomplishment.

It is a well deserved honor for him. My brother is one of the most driven, hard working, intelligent people I know. You don't graduate from The Ohio State University with honors and then work in Sweden for two years only to follow up with two years in Evanston, earning an MBA with newborn twins to boot without having some drive and intelligence.

Of course, let's make sure credit is given where credit is due here. He married a very special woman who played an important role in all of this as well. She uprooted her life to move across the ocean and travel the world with him as a newlywed. She also carried the majority of the load with those boys while he was hard at work studying and working.

As much as I respect and admire my brother, my sister-in-law deserves and has a great deal of respect, admiration and love from me as well.

I've watched my brother grow up from the day he was brought home from the hospital. We shared a room growing up and I have many memories wanting him out. I managed to convince him to move into the walk-in closet we had so I could have the whole room. Later, we put up a blanket in that same closet to divide it into our own personal, "private" spaces.

Despite these efforts, we spent a good bit of time together growing up. We shared a number of similar interests and friends. Only two years apart in age, we also attended high school and college at the same time.

When I left to attend Ohio State, he joined my Dad to help me move. I knew my roommate from high school and was aware that he wouldn't move in until the day after I did, so my brother even spent my first night in the dorm with me.

If this wasn't enough, when it was his turn to leave for college he chose Ohio State as well, following in my steps......or so I'd like to think. My brother more than made footsteps of his own.

After he and his roommate decided they were done living in the dorms after their freshman year, they moved in with me. All those years of trying to get away from one another and here we were choosing to live together. Granted, this time around we had our own rooms, but my point is still valid.

I have had first hand experience watching my brother bust his rear end studying and working and attaining high marks in school. I have witnessed how he interacted with people and situations. I saw his mistakes and accomplishments. I observed him grow up and mature and become who he is today.

The whole time I watched with awe. I was the older brother, but all too often I was learning from him. That has been hard to take sometimes. It is humbling to be the apprentice when you are traditionally supposed to be the master. But I would like to think that is more of a testament to him than a strike against me.

Long gone are the days of the "One Block Rule." I always reference this story because it is a perfect example of the changing of the guard that took place between us. There once was a day, believe it or not, that I would dominate our one-on-one basketball games in the driveway. This was about the time I hit my growth spurt and he still had a couple of years before he would hit his own.

My advantage in height allowed me to block so many of his shots that it became pointless for us to play. So we agreed to the "one block rule" that limited me to one block per game. This way he could get shots off and our games were much more competitive.

Today there is no need for that rule. He has surpassed me in athletic ability. I couldn't block his shot if my life depended on it. But the chemistry that developed from those hours in our driveway playing hotly contested basketball games, working the give and go to perfection versus our neighbors and creating football routes like P2 in the bushes in which no defender north of I-90 could stop, led to a relationship and a host of memories that I'll take over athletic superiority.

I also like to use this story to grab some credit in my brother's development and success. I would like to think that this rule ignited a fire in him that burns to this day. I'd like to think this need to beat his brother in basketball translated into other aspects of his life.

It may be stretch but I'll openly admit I am grasping for some of his coat tails.

I have a ton of respect for my brother. He and I have a good bit in common but we are very different in the way we approach and handle things. While he continues to downplay this achievement, I and the rest of his family are excited to celebrate a major accomplishment in his life. He may be humble about it but I have no problem picking up the slack and bragging about my brother and his MBA from the Kellogg School Of Business at Northwestern University.

Not So High Aspirations

There is this song by Nickleback, a band I can't stand, that keeps getting played at seemingly every place I go. I finally gave in and listened to it. The lyrics repeatedly described the lifestyle of a "rock star" and I continuously heard how the singer supposedly thought we all want to be a rock star.

I'll admit there are days I have dreamed of living that life. Other times I have fantasized of being an athletic superstar, preferably on the football field. Finally, like everyone I have speculated about what I would do if I won the lottery and suddenly became rich.

So, as I heard this guy wax poetic about easy women, cheap drugs, the best bars, hanging out with movie stars (catch that rhyme there?), plenty of money and on and on, I thought to myself how in all honesty, that is NOT the life I'd be happiest living.

Of course I'd love to be popular. Rocking out on stage and feeling the power of the sound behind would be awesome. The party lifestyle would even be fun for awhile or until the hangovers and morning afters got old. The toys that come with all the riches of rock star status would be sweet too.

In the end though, my aspirations are much milder. For me, happiness is much more simple. True, I'd like a ton of money, but this more to pay of debt than anything else. I like the idea of having things to want.

This goes against many of the Buddhist principles I have been gleaming about of late, but I find enjoyment in having to browse through Best Buy to pick a CD or two because I can't just buy every one I want. There is a certain amount of pleasure I get out of this.

I don't want to be Tiger Woods or LeBron James and have everything I could possibly imagine. That would be boring.

But I really would like my debt paid off!

No, for me it is the simpler things that would make me happy.

I am perfectly satisfied with the opportunity to play softball a couple nights week. I would like to play basketball with my friends on a regular basis. Making it out to a ballgame from time to time is something I would appreciate. Watching my favorite teams play and win is important to me as well.

I enjoy coming home to hang out with my wife and kids. My daughter's laugh makes me happy. When she calls me "daddy" my heart rate increases in a good way. Taking a vacation to New England with my wife would be sweet. Having a comfortable house in a safe neighborhood near my friends and around sensible neighbors is pleasant. Grilling out on warm summer nights is always good.

Pulling a chair up to a bar and tossing back a couple cold ones with good friends is a happy occurrence for me. If a game is on at the same time, BONUS! If I'm tailgating before a game, that is even better!

Blogging away and knowing friends and family read with interest is appealing to me as well. Finding old friends and catching up with them on social networking sites brings a smile to my face.

I want trips to Dairy Queen to remain a treat. I'd hate to be "above" that.

There are plenty of other things I enjoy. I could probably work out some rhymes and catchy hooks and make a song out of these too.

But one thing is for sure, as much as those riches and parties and all that glory sounds enticing, the rest of that lifestyle wouldn't be worth it. I'd rather live the life I live now.

Mourning Mallory

It feels like my life has come to a point of closure. Recently, my wife and I experienced a difficult period that I have documented often in this blog. We lost a baby late in the pregnancy to triploidy. It is a freak chromosomal disorder that has always been fatal for the fetus.

We both have worked hard to grieve appropriately and deal with the emotional roller coaster that accompanies a loss such as this. Fortunately, this experience doesn't have any lasting physical problems so we have been able to continue our lives as planned.

We now approach the one year anniversary of the event. At this year mark we have a beautiful baby girl. We are celebrating this joyous experience with sleep deprivation and plenty of diaper changes and feedings. These events present their own challenges believe it or not, but each one is graciously welcomed.

So now I reflect on the past year with all that has happened and wonder to myself if I should put the loss to rest. But I don't want to let this go. I fear that moving on would distant myself from the memory of Mallory even though there was never really a physical memory. I recall the weeks following the loss and how determined I was to make sure we didn't sweep it under the rug. My gut was telling me that I needed to make a big deal about the loss.

I still question if that is appropriate. Plenty of couples lose babies. One thing I learned from the experience was that the number of babies that are lost is surprisingly high. A number of women lose numerous babies before they finally have a successful birth. I lost count of the women in our lives that came out of the woodwork and told us their own stories of lost babies.

They remained silent about these losses. If this is the case and many of them don't mourn their losses, does this mean I am blowing this out of proportion? Is my effort to remain so open about my experience a cry for attention? Am I making a big deal over nothing? Am I too sensitive? Is this something I should let go?

I'll be the first to admit I crave attention. Isn't this blog really an example of me crying out, "Look at me! Listen to me! Watch me!" I think everybody enjoys positive attention at some level whether or not they'll admit it openly or even to ourselves.

So is this a function of that craving?

I do know that in my private moments, I have been emotional over the loss. I really did carry the burden for awhile and throughout the successful pregnancy, I would revisit the memory of the loss in a fearful or saddened way. I didn't always publicize those moments. I would share them with my wife, but she was my partner in this experience.

My wife refers to our daughter as our "miracle baby" because of the loss. She feels it is time to put the loss behind us and has said it is OK to let go of the mourning.

I, on the other hand, still feel that ending the mourning would be one more step to forgetting Mallory. It is all I have of her. My brother and his wife are so generous and caring. They gave my wife and me two gifts. One for the new baby and one to remember Mallory. It meant the world to me. I felt like it gives me a tangible memory of Mallory and I could begin to let go without erasing her. But here I am still wanting to hold on to the sadness. I'm still afraid that letting go would erase Mallory.

Another thought I had was to tattoo her name somewhere hidden on myself. I would then have a tangible way to keep her with me forever. But this would make a hypocrite out of me since I have major issues with the trendy tattoo thing that has risen over the last decade or so. Also, if I did this, I feel I would need to add my two living children and then I would be approaching NBA player level. Wait. No, until I have body ink crawling up my neck and down my arms, I'll be OK.

Maybe my newborn is my closure. She may represent what Mallory would be. Maybe she represents what Mallory is. But I do not want to put that on her. I don't want my youngest daughter to live her life carrying the memory of someone else. I want her to be her own unique person to me. I recall a good friend of mine whose twin was lost at birth. We have discussed this subject manner in the past and his opinion would be worth hearing. I am curious if he feels like he was carrying the memory of his brother throughout his life and if that was a positive or negative thing.

This is a joyous time in my life. I have had numerous setbacks over the past several years and it feels like I am beginning to climb my way back to the surface. This is a time I should be celebrating all the joy, not dragging out the pain. I just can't leave this behind me.

Life is not about the destination but the journey right?

So cliche!