August 14, 2005
norman the stormin' mormon
8/14/05
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I always loved this diptych of my brother Kent, as it is the perfect metaphor for him - he was incredibly happy to be in the photo studio until the bright flash of the first picture totally freaked him out and made him cry for the second. He is the Sensitive Buddha. It was his birthday this weekend, so this blog goes out to him because I didn't really know what he wanted on Amazon.
As I've oft said before, Kent introduced me to some of the main things that have held fast in my life: the Beatles, XTC, early bizarre poetry, the Odd Bodkins cartoons, Monty Python and I believe he sent me the first or second email I ever received in July 1993.
He once wrote a story about working the backhoe at a cemetery in mid-winter Iowa that was part of the reason I wanted to be a writer. He also sustained a burn injury at his Burger King job - "french frying" his hand - that was so grotesque that I swore I'd never work in fast food. Although I've held numerous jobs worse than fast food, I have never set foot near a fryer in my life.
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NYC, 1991
One of the worst memories of my childhood was being sent to awaken him in his basement room after he had been beaten up near the post office in downtown Cedar Rapids, Iowa. I was expecting a black eye and some scratches, but I found a teenager purple with wounds and both eyes bloated shut; it was a vicious, cruel thrashing that gave me daydreams of revenge for twenty years.
He is the kind of big brother that makes you want others to have siblings; part of the reason we named our baby Lucy Kent was because we hoped she could be as cool to any future brother or sister that the original Kent was. If she inherits his magnanimity and half his bizarreness, I'll consider it a genetic success. When he was a little kid, Mom told him that airplanes were kept in hangars. So later that night, she went into his closet, and all his toy airplanes were hung up on the clothes hangers. That story breaks my heart every time.
Kent doesn't live near us and probably never will. He'll continue to dispense advice and devastating breakbeats from his home in Iowa City long into the future. He doesn't really see the need for the big city like we do, another in a long line of white flashes that will only bum him out in the second picture.
I will say this, though: Kent, we love you. So stop fucking smoking, you goddamn retard.
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apple orchard near Mt. Vernon, IA, 2004
Ok, I've waited long enough not to be first. . .[Laurie in Manley, where ARE you??] Ian, this is a wonderful reflection on the emotional/spiritual/intellectual impact of siblings--the "hangar" story is fabulous--Happy Birthday, Kent!! And here's to all the sibs who introduce us to things that make our lives so much the richer.
And may they ALL stop doing the harmful things that threaten to take them from our lives sooner than we would want. Please.
happy birthday, kent! happy kent, everyone!
Speaking as someone who has an awful relationship with her sister (I have a sister? that's so WEIRD to me.), this post is particularly touching. What I wouldn't give to be lucky enough to have such an emotional connection to someone else. There is something special about the bond between brothers and sisters that cannot be easily explained. My bond was broken almost before I was born and simply can't be fixed. However, for those of you out there who are quibbling with your sibling (hee!), MAKE UP.
Speaking of sibling rivalry, i'll always remember your pre wedding softball game with Kent barrelling around third, hell bent for home plate guarded by Michelle.
Happy Birthday!
Song #5.
Happy Birthday, Kent!
You're a Very Cool Person who I need to get to know a lot better.
You...smoke? Hard to believe, given the current red state declasse connotations of smoking. I won't lie: it's hard to quit.
Okay, then -- here's the truth about quitting.
When you quit, it'll take you --
- 3 days before you stop wanting to claw your (and everyone else's) eyeballs out
- 3 months before you stop having daily cravings
- A year before you can safely have more than a couple of drinks in the presence of other smokers
- 4 years before cigarette smoke and ashtrays seem as gross as they did when you were a kidAt least that was my experience (7+ yrs without a smoke). I recommend: substituting something for the cigs (I went with chewing gum, now it's breath mints); avoiding smokers as much as possible; telling everyone you know that you're going to quit/have quit (so you'll know you'd feel like a complete horse's ass if you were to give in to temptation); and even if you don't succeed the first time, trying again until you do. I think it takes 6 tries on average (that's about what it took me). Oh, and you can give yourself a gift each year on your quitting anniversary.
Feel free to contact me if you'd like to know more (or to tell me what to do with my self-righteous advice). :-)