My brother Todd was born in August 1957 \u2014 a cherished and much-anticipated first Chinese son. Two and a half years later, I crashed the party. That must have been a rude awakening.<\/p>\n
Although studies on birth order and personality have yielded mixed results, I\u2019m convinced that the timing of my arrival had a lot to do with who I turned out to be. The age difference between us gave Todd a clear head start at almost everything \u2014 but not enough to completely count me out. It was the perfect incubator for my competitive overdrive.<\/p>\n
My mom once said that I was like Avis Car Rental: number two, and always trying harder. I brought that attitude to everything we did: basketball, card games, tennis, academics. The actual arena didn\u2019t matter. My only concern was proving I could keep up with Todd.<\/p>\n
Over time, I did more than keep up. Sometimes I passed him, which I never let him forget. I was so obnoxious, in fact, that by the time he was a senior in high school, he promised on a regular basis that his last act before leaving for college would be to beat me to a pulp. I wasn\u2019t worried, though. I knew I could outrun him.<\/p>\n
When Todd did go off to college, I can\u2019t say that I missed him. After sharing a room for the first fifteen years of my life, I was thrilled to have my own space. During high school, we had moved down to the basement apartment that we\u2019d previously rented out, so now I had a bachelor pad all to myself.<\/p>\n
Back in those days, stereo systems were too bulky and too expensive to fit in most dorm rooms, so my brother left his entire record collection behind. And although I\u2019d heard most of it before, now I could play whatever I liked, whenever I wanted. It was a revelation. In those stacks and stacks of LPs, there were archaeological layers of Todd\u2019s evolving musical taste. The earliest strata, Beatles and saccharine 60\u2019s pop, quickly gave way to more sophisticated sounds. There were singer-songwriters like Joni Mitchell and James Taylor. There was a strong vein of R&B, with Aretha, Marvin Gaye, Al Green, and Earth, Wind and Fire. There were pioneer indie artists like Tom Waits, Rickie Lee Jones, Al Jarreau and Gil Scott-Heron. And then there was jazz \u2014 Keith Jarrett, Sarah Vaughn, Ella, Billie, Coltrane and Miles.<\/p>\n
I don\u2019t know how I would have found any of that on my own, but there it was just waiting for me: an eclectic, curated, comprehensive musical education at my fingertips. I wouldn\u2019t start making music of my own until years later, but when I did, I had an incredible foundation to build on. I owe so much of my creative expression, not to mention a huge community of dear musical friends, to my brother. He never did give me the beating he promised, but instead left me one of the most precious gifts I\u2019ve ever received.<\/p>\n
As adults, Todd and I ended up on separate coasts, and though our boyhood competition quickly faded, we never became close. He was always a bit of a loner, and it wasn\u2019t until a few years ago that we discovered he\u2019d been struggling with symptoms that turned out to be Lewy body dementia. We rallied around him, and brought him out to Denver in the middle of the pandemic, where he could be closer to one of my other brothers. At first, he made a remarkable recovery, but over time his disease took its inevitable toll. A few months ago he died.<\/p>\n
Last week, our family gathered together to remember him. We stood in a circle on a beach, sharing stories and memories, then scattered his ashes in the waves. It was then I realized that, even though we were never close, his impact on my life had been as profound as that of anyone I\u2019ve ever known.<\/p>\n
We\u2019re quick to acknowledge the effects of parents on children, but I think we underestimate the role siblings play. That gradual accumulation of shared experiences \u2014 the countless family dinners, pointless squabbles, hand-me-down clothing, and stupid TV shows \u2014 build up into a particular kind of intimacy that can\u2019t be duplicated any other way.<\/p>\n
There\u2019s a faded photo in Todd\u2019s baby book, from before my parents got too distracted and exhausted to bother taking pictures of their kids. In it, I\u2019m two weeks old, and Todd is holding me in his arms and looking at my face. Little did he know how many ways I would make him regret that I\u2019d ever been born. Little did I know how many ways he\u2019d make me the person I am today.<\/p>\n