He loved his brother, from the time he realized he had one. Three years older than him, his brother always had that allure of someone way up upon a pedestal. As a four year old sitting in the apartment kitchen with his mother and paternal grandmother, he could get so excited when Peter came home for lunch each school day noon. All the fighting between those two women would dissipate when big brother walked up the stairs. His mom nicknamed him ‘The Governor’ because of his insistence in having his lunch a certain way each day. Grandma called him ‘Pietro’ since he was named after her late husband, the man neither of the boys ever met (Their grandfather blew his brains out a handful of years before the boys were born, and they were never told about that tragedy until they were much older).
As they grew up a bit he would look up to his ‘Big Brudda’ as he called Peter… right into adulthood. He can recall, when they had to move into a new neighborhood because the landlord’s son needed their apartment how the two of them actually relied on each other more. He was eight and Peter eleven and they both did not yet make new friends on the block for a month or so. It was autumn, football season, and the two of them would have a catch outside the new apartment. A house down the street had this nice grassy lawn in front and they made it their own football field. The area was so tiny that they did all their playing on their knees, tackling and rolling over until their pants and shirts were green stained, mixed with some brown from the soil. He was elated to go ‘Mano to Mano’ with his hero.
Three years later they had to move again as the landlord needed their apartment for himself and new wife. On the new block, a mile away from the old place, he made lots of friends rather quickly. Peter did not, as he became kind of picky about who to hang with. There were lots of teenagers on the block in both their age groups, but Peter just stayed in mostly, except when he was at high school. There was more to that story though, as Peter developed the worst case of acne when he was twelve. Their parents took him to Dr. Alicandri for ultra violet lamp treatments quite often, and it did not do much to soften the blow. So, Peter stayed in when not at school. He remembers the New Years Eve when he was going to a party down Larry’s basement with his group of pals and gals, and Peter just stayed in their bed room, playing with toy soldiers that he had saved for years. He tried to comfort his big brother, but Peter told him to ‘Fuck off and go to your party!’ His brother’s sadness became his as seeing him like this brought tears to his eyes, he loved him so much.
Once, when they were both going to Brooklyn College, he and his brother did reconnect again. One Christmas vacation they both wanted to get out of the cold and go down to Florida. A company in NYC had a deal to drive a new car for a customer in Florida. All they had to do was pay the gas and tolls and deliver the car to the destination on time. It was a great trip for the two of them. He remembers when they picked up a hitchhiker in Maryland one night. It was a guy younger than himself, maybe seventeen, with hippie hair, a floppy hat and cowboy boots. When they stopped in Franklin, Georgia for gas and refreshments, he and his brother made the kid stay in the car. This was 1972 and Georgia was ‘ enemy territory’ for New Yorkers with NY plates.
By 1974 his brother made the move to relocate to the SF Bay area. Before that, months earlier, he made Peter his Best Man. He remembers how when he got engaged months earlier Peter gave him unsolicited advice about his choice of mate. He didn’t wish to hear it and went full speed ahead with a foolish decision that resonated seven years later with his divorce. For years afterwards his brother, also now married with his own two children, chose not to keep in touch with his little brother. He tried to chase after Peter’s affection, all to no avail. It was when he began Freudian psychoanalysis after his divorce that he learned why Peter had rejected his need for closeness. The highly dysfunctional marriage between their parents had caused inner anger from his brother towards both of them. His analyst explained how Peter, in his own immaturity, saw his little brother as but a replica of his mother and father. Thus the rejection.
Over the ensuing years he did his best to contact Peter, but it lacked any closeness from his brother. Finally, in the mid 1980s Peter was scheduled to come visit their parents. He flew into NY and was staying at their small condo in Suffolk County for a long weekend. His brother could not come out to see Peter because he had to drive a limo that weekend to be able to pay his bills, as the divorce had been rough on him financially. Monday evening Peter was scheduled fly back to the coast, so his brother drove out to their parent’s for a family dinner. Then he and his father would drive Peter to the airport. In the car he kept looking at Peter, trying to reminisce how it was for the two of them when they were young boys. Inside the airport the three of them began to walk towards the gate. Peter, ever the practical one, told them that they didn’t have to walk all the way down the corridor, as his dad was not in the best of shape. His father shook Peter’s hand, said a few nice thoughts as Peter turned towards his little brother. His brother suddenly embraced him and held him ever so tightly like he would his young son. The tears flew out of his eyes like rain through a letterbox. Peter saw how tight his brother held him and kept saying ‘It’s OK. It’s Ok.’ His brother was now sobbing. ‘I love you so much! So much!’ and he just would not let go. Their father, who was never one to show public affection, tried to calm him down. As Peter finally made off down the corridor to the gate his father held his arm and said ‘ You’ll see your brother again.’… It would be years before he would.
PA Farruggio
New Years Eve 2024