In today's CCTimes, my friend, Dan McCullough penned a beautiful piece about the loss of his brother Bobby. It reminded me of my own memory.
You ever drive by a house or a memorial named after a person and wonder who the person was? Here's a little story about a place on the Cape.
I never had a brother. But; growing up in the Bronx, I did have a big brother/uncle. He was my idol (along with Mickey Mantle). He had spinal meningitis as an infant and became deaf. However, he overcame youthful hurdles and became a marvelous athlete. He became a star windmill pitcher in the NY park league and actually pitched against the great Eddie Faner and the King and His Court. He was truly a King.
He went to hearing schools, including New York University, and excelled at everything he did. He acquired an engineering degree and ultimately went to work for Boeing in Philadelphia designing helicopters. He was talented, brilliant and his smile filled every room into which he walked. Everytime we got together, we'd pitch to each other. Throughout his life, he was such an expert lip reader, I never fully learned to sign, which I've always regretted.
As his thirties approached, he struggled with his deafness, depression and alcoholism. He sunk deeper into despair. He received treatment, once at a facility in Falmouth. Ultimately, we lost Stevie to suicide.
So now you know. When you drive by the Gosnold Steven Miller House in Falmouth; you'll know that it's named after my big brother/uncle Stevie.