Happy Birthday to my older brother Duke... wherever you are

This is my older brother Duke and myself in 1963.  His first name is Purri, but I only heard one great aunt and an elementary school principal refer to him by that. 

To the rest of the world he’s known as Donovan, in our family he’s Duke.

He was born May 16, 1959 and this Sunday is Duke’s 62nd birthday.  I’ve probably spoken to him 3 times in the last 30 years.  Truth be told, I’m not even sure where he lives these days. 

UPDATE:  I’ve recently learned Duke’s moving back to Greene County, the rural corner of Pennsylvania we grew up, where he left for good in 1977 and vowed never to return.  I hope it works out for him, I tried moving back home 5 years ago and only lasted 6 months. 

Before Duke entered high school (and cast me aside for friends his own age) we did a lot of things together.  We were in the same Scout troop, were both close to our Grandma Morris and spent Wednesday nights with her (after Scout meetings) for years. 

Duke would talk my ear off about books he was reading, and turned me on to SF authors like Robert Heinlein, Isaac Asimov & Ray Bradbury. We watched shows like Star Trek and Mission Impossible together, and listened to George Carlin, National Lampoon and Cheech & Chong records for hours.  He often snuck me into movies our mom said I was too young to see.

In 1973, when I asked Duke to take me with him to see The Exorcist, he said “NO WAY!  I could barely contain you during The Omega Man after Charlton Heston’s woman became a mutant!”

Years later when I saw The Exorcist, I silently thanked Duke for sparing my young mind from it     
            
From as early as I can remember, Duke had plans to become a lawyer.  He succeeded, but I always thought his true calling was writing. 

When we moved to the farmhouse in 1970, he spent countless hours in his room, clacking away on a manual typewriter.  He had a 2 foot stack of short stories, all neatly typed.

(Maybe now, with Duke moving back home, he’ll take up writing again—or finding his fifth wife.  Unlike me who’s never married, Duke’s never stayed single very long!)

Something else we don’t have in common, Duke’s been the poster boy for the Republican Party since 1972, when Nixon was running for a second term.  When I said I liked George McGovern, he went ballistic and told me to find a hippie commune and move there.  Um.. I was 11 years old!

I do want to share one episode from our childhood that I found heroic and will never forget.  On October 31, 1969—my eighth birthday—I was allowed to go out with Duke trick-or-treating, no parents tagging along.  Our younger sister Shawn and brother Steve went with Dad.

Duke & I were late coming home, but had quite the night—we were lugging pillowcases filled with candy.  And that’s when a clown mugged me.

A) Our house on Cumberland Street  B)  The scene of the crime  C)  Margaret Bell Miller School (now a middle school, in 1969 this was our town’s high school)

As we neared the corner to our street, an older boy wearing a flannel shirt and clown mask came up behind us, grabbed my sack, knocked me down pretty hard and took off running. 

Duke dropped his bag and his ‘‘Land of the Giants’ mask (a giant bearded head with the eyeholes in the mouth) and took off after him.

That took courage… or some pretty real anger.  Probably a lot of both. 

I dont know what it was, but seeing your big brother going after your attacker… I will never forget it.  They fought and struggled in front of the old high school.

The jerk got away, and Duke returned with my pillowcase, now torn & empty.  And we had one hell of a story to tell our parents when we got home.  The morning after, as I met up with classmates Greg L, Jackie H & Chuck Z on our way to school, I shared the events of the night before and my brother’s heroism.  When we got to the high school (we walked past it everyday on our way to North Ward Elementary), the sidewalk was filled with kids talking and pointing up & down the street, and saying “some kid must’ve got run over here last night!”  

The street was littered with crushed candy bars, popcorn balls and other treats smashed and ran over.  I didn’t get my Halloween haul, but neither did my attacker.

Happy Birthday Duke