PART FOUR: THE BEST BOY IN THE WORLD

The Best Boy In The World

   Gary's death has provoked so many emotions and memories, but I am most compelled by my brother as a boy.  I am haunted by how much I've missed, how many hints I was given back when we were both young, how many things there were about him that spoke in volumes about who Gary was and always would be.
   With the eyes of an observer, a participant, we were just kids who shared a childhood.  But looking at things with the heart of an historian, I am heartbroken and stunned that no one, me included, recognized the thoughts and actions of this little boy as what it truly was.  Kindness and consideration aside, there was something about this boy that was different, something that foretold of the greatness that Gary possessed.  Yet still, fifty plus years later, we are all just finding out what that was.

   There are three separate stories that have kept coming back to me throughout the years, three perfect examples of who Gary was as a boy.  The first of them was when we were very young.  He asked me if I could have one wish, anything in the whole wide world, what would it be.  I don't remember my answer, but  I will never forget Gary's.  " What I want more than anything is to be the best boy I can be, "  he told me, " I want to be the best boy in the world. " 

   The second was a New Years Eve, 1961.  Gary was 8, I was 5.  My parents were having a party in the basement, our older brothers were out, so it was just Gary and me.  I remember hearing him moving about in my bedroom so I started to come down the hall to see what he was doing, but he shouted out to me to wait.  " Not yet, " he told me, " I'll let you know when it's ready. "
   After a time, he came to get me.  I recall him leading me down the hallway, holding my hand and smiling.   The T.V. was on, playing Guy Lombardo's New Years Eve party, there was a tablecloth in the middle of the floor, and on that table cloth were two champagne glasses filled with bright green Dr. Brown's lime soda, two big dishes filled with M & M's, a block of Velveeta Cheese with two knives and a plate of Ritz crackers arranged in perfect order.  Next to the places he set for us to sit were our noise makers - two Farberware cook pots, two wooden spoons and two sets of metal lids.
   "  Happy New Year!!! "  Gary yelled when he showed me what he had done.  " This is our party!! "   So we sat at the floor, watched Guy Lombardo, ate M&M's, Velveeta cheese and Ritz crackers, drank our green soda and waited until the big ball dropped in Times Square.  And, at the stroke of midnight, Gary picked up his noisemakers, pounded on them, screamed Happy New Year over and over and danced all around the room, laughing and smiling.
   I never forgot that New Years, and although I've had 54 others, that one stands out above all the rest.  It was truly the best New Years celebration I've ever been invited to, the one where I remembered all the details, the one I felt most welcomed and cherished, and I knew Gary did what he did to make me happy, to make me feel like I was the most important guest at any party, anywhere.  I often wondered if he would have celebrated if he had been alone that night, and I am certain that he would have.

   The third memory is probably the hardest one of all, the most telling.  Gary was about ten or eleven and he is standing in the hallway just off the kitchen.  My father and grandfather are in the kitchen talking and I hear my grandfather say he has no patience for Gary, and a few other things I can not decipher.  I expect my father to say something back, to defend his son, but instead, I hear them both laugh.
   I remember seeing Gary sort of sag, his chin down against his chest and he just stood there.  I didn't really understand what I saw, but I came out of my room on the other side of the hall and walked up to him.   " You O.K.? "  I asked him.
   And just that quick, he straightened up, turned his back to me, flipped his eyelids inside out (something he did on a regular basis), turned around to face me, smiling, and with his wrists turned backwards and his hands held into little fists moving back and forth, says to me, "  Hi Ya, Mr. Donahee - eeee-   eeeee -  eeeee. ", a reference to a regular skit on the Jackie Gleeson show he personalized and found hilarious.  " Come on, Sad Sack, " he told me, " You just gotta laugh. "
 
    If I could have that wish back that Gary asked me about all those years ago, it would be this:

To go back to that very moment when he asked me what my wish was, to kneel before him and embrace him, and tell him your wish came true,  you were, indeed, the best boy in the world,  you grew up to be the best man in the world, an amazing man, that greatness awaits you, that you will be someone who will be heard and respected, that no one will ever doubt you or disregard you again, that you will become that father you always needed, you will  have that family you always wanted where you were the star, that you will be loved and cherished beyond your wildest dreams.  And yes, you will be rich, richer than Dad ever was in so many ways. We will be so proud of you and everything you have done and you will make so many people happy and help everyone who has ever known you.   And after you are gone, I will promise that no one will forget you.