Gone But Not forgotten

My column last week, “I’ve Got a Secret…” spurred a wave of responses greater than any I had ever seen in ten years of writing My Weekly Wisdom Column. I was truly touched by the expressions of sympathy all of you sent. And I wanted to thank all of you in some meaningful way.

I can think of no better means of saying “Thank you” than to tell you something about my brother. First of all, I don’t mourn for Don. He will surely be missed, but he didn’t want a lot of moping and sadness. Instead, he wanted those who knew him to celebrate his life. We did that last Friday with a Champaign toast and a lot of remembrances.

Since most of you never knew my brother, I will give you a brief biography.

Our family consisted of Mom and Dad, three boys and two girls, seven of us in all. Don was the second oldest of the children, but he was also the creative genius among us. He never failed at anything he tried, and he tried many different things. At various times during his life he was an accomplished musician, an actor, a director, a screenwriter, a builder, a furniture designer and maker, and the list goes on.

One of the talents I envied in Don was that he could do something naturally without any formal training. For instance, our father was a concert pianist, a graduate of Eastman School of Music. He used to play classical music on our upright piano almost every Sunday afternoon. One Sunday, after Dad had finished playing one of the classics, Don sat at the piano and played the same piece. He had never taken a single lesson on piano, yet he was able to play a very difficult song without any mistakes. That was just the way Don was. If he thought he could do something, most likely he could do it, and with little or no learning curve.

Part of Don’s life was a mystery to me. He married while I was away in the Air Force, and I never really got to know his wife, Katie, that well. They had two daughters, Gwen and Kelly, but the marriage eventually ended in divorce. He was geographically separated from the girls after the divorce. However, he later brought them back into his life, and spent a lot of time with his children and grandchildren, sometimes traveling cross-country from California to North Carolina to be with them.

Don liked to ski, so he left a promising career in television and lived for about three years in Vail, Colorado so that he could indulge his love of skiing. In order to support himself, he went to work helping to build some of those magnificent chalets that grace the hillsides of Vail. But he wasn’t building walls and ceilings and such. No, Don was a finish-carpenter, doing all the fine touches on the interiors.

When Don decided to get back into television and movies, he left Vail for Los Angeles, where he was a news director for one of the network affiliates. About that time, the TV spoof on soap operas, “Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman” was running on his channel. Don took the theme from that show and applied it to his venue. He created, produced and directed a local show called “Metro News, Metro News.” It ran after the nightly news, and was an impromptu parody of all the stories reported that evening.

“Metro News, Metro News” was very popular with the LA audience, and it earned Don a very important life-changing event. He met his future wife, Penny, whom he married in 1986. That is a story in itself, and I won’t tell it here except to say it was one of those instances of simultaneous love at first sight.

Don always worked behind the scenes in Hollywood, so you probably never saw his name unless you read the credits, but he was there. One of his accomplishments was the production of what he called, “newswraps,” short films that promoted movies and were shown on TV stations. One that I recall vividly was a short half-hour film about the making of “The Cannonball Run.” It was almost as funny as the movie that starred Burt Reynolds, Roger Moore, Farrah Fawcett and many others.

The newswraps included outtakes and bloopers, and a lot of film that would have wound up on the cutting room floor. They probably helped spawn the “TV Bloopers & Practical Jokes” shows that Dick Clark and Ed McMahon hosted, since they were very similar in content and predated the bloopers show.

Several years ago, after attending one of our biennial family reunions, this one held in Winston-Salem, Don and Penny decided to move from Los Angeles to North Carolina. Don made yet another career change, and after a yearlong apprenticeship, became a designer and builder of furniture. Once again, he was successful, and many of his friends and clients have treasured pieces in their homes.

One day last year Don was doing some yard work and walked into a partially closed garage door, hitting his head and knocking himself flat on his back. The next day he was suffering from some neck pains and went to a chiropractor. During the preliminary exam, the X-rays showed some anomalies, and the chiropractor suggested that Don see his family doctor. Further examination revealed that there were tumors in Don’s lungs. He had smoked earlier in life, but quit back in 1981. The doctors thought that the cancer was in the early stages, and could be successfully treated.

What began as another obstacle to be overcome soon became the supreme battle. Though Don and Penny remained optimistic throughout the treatment, Don lost the battle. I had the good fortune to visit with him twice in the last few months, and he was as cheerful, funny and positive as ever.

I lost four people at once: brother, friend, mentor and co-conspirator. I would be remiss if I closed without relating a funny story involving Don and me.

My father once got angry with me and banished me from his house, probably deservedly so, but he also kept most of my clothes. Don learned of the incident and volunteered to help me regain my belongings. While I waited a few houses down the street, Don took his new car over to show to Dad and offered to have him test drive it with him.

The two of them drove off on their short test hop, while I stole into the house and recovered my clothing, which had been not only stored there, but also dry-cleaned and bagged in garment bags. I got them back in better condition than I had left them, and Dad didn’t discover the “theft” for a while, so Don didn’t even get into trouble over it. We eventually told him how I got my property back, and I think he was actually amused by the tale.

So thank you for the condolences, but I have many fond memories of Don that make it a lot easier to say goodbye to him. So, “Farewell, brother! You’re still my hero.”