Another Loss

Death has taken my last sibling. On Saturday, September 28, 2013, my oldest brother, Merle aged 92 passed from this life. Someone giving their condolences commented that I am now the oldest. I’m not sure how I want to take that. He had fallen and subsequently in rehab suffered a stroke; ironically a story parallel to our father’s last days in 1988.

This brother was one I saw very little of during my lifetime. He was a tease when he came around me. He liked to pinch me and give me a knuckle rub on my head. He favored cigars or cigarillos as best I can recall.  He was a grocer most of his life.

I knew very little of his personal life because he didn’t talk about it much. He was a two time Purple Heart recipient as a WWII veteran. He had recently got to visit the WWII memorial in Washington, D.C. , travelled to Hawaii and Alaska where he had served in the Seventh Infantry. Information on his war time service came through other inquisitive family members. I have the telegram sent to mom and dad explaining that he was wounded in action. He was 25 years my senior.

There was apparently some competition between him and our other brother, Lester, who passed in July at age 90. They would have brief exchanges and bantering about the two different units they were assigned to. It was good to know he was always checking on Les the last few years.

I do remember the times one of my nephews and I would spent the night with him and his wife back in the 50’s. One time I went with him to his grocery store in Fresno and he sat me at a desk with a cigar box full of short pencils and crayons and I began my “career” of sitting at a desk and doing paperwork.

I recall the one time he lived in Salinas and he had purchased a new small car; yep, a Mercury Comet. His wife, Frances, commented that it would bounce all over if it ran over a pea in the road.

He worked and lived in Santa Cruz County as a candy and cigarette salesman for a while. The company provided him with a Morris Minor to drive and he served Santa Cruz and Monterey Counties.

One Christmas all the immediate family celebrated in Santa Cruz at my sister’s house and packages were opened and the front room was full of crumpled wrapping paper. My dad helped pick it all up and take it to an incinerator in the back yard where the next day it was burned. This was before the EPA. They scoured the house for one of his gifts that was missing, a very expensive pair of Florsheim shoes. The shoes were discovered burnt to a crisp in the backyard incinerator. I think there was an 8mm film clip in the family archives showing the charred remains. The family had a good laugh at the expense of my dad, especially all us younger ones.

He came to our house once after the passing of an aunt or uncle, and after the funeral he went out with the uncles, our mom’s younger brothers, to a bar and ended up in a scuffle resulting in a broken jaw. He was stuck for about three days staying with us because he could only drink fluid through a straw. I was ecstatic because my older brother finally stayed overnight in our house.

Merle was at the height of his glory when Frances and he were able to finally bring Julie into their family. This was a real moment of becoming a father for him. Julie has served him so well in his last years. I am proud of her and glad she is one of my nieces.

Several years ago, Merle drove himself to the hospital feeling he was having a heart attack. It shook him up a bit. Shortly afterward he voluntarily surrendered his driver’s license. He used buses and motorized scooter to get around until it was determined the scooter wasn’t safe. He was active and high energy right to the end, living alone in his single-wide trailer.

I didn’t have much contact with him in the latter years except for occasional phone calls. He had begun to suffer from dementia. But he did know who I was, little Larry.

I know I have written much of his story here because there are 92 years of history. But at this time this is what comes to mind. Rest in Peace, Merle.

Your Little Brother misses you.