By Hopie Welles Jernagan (Teddy's sister)
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I
don’t remember most of Ted’s birthdays growing up. Memories of
childhood birthdays in our house are a blur of sheet cakes decorated by
Mom, birthday dinners with our grandparents around the formal dining
table, fighting over new presents, one of us ending up in tears…
But I do remember Ted’s 18th birthday. It was a Tuesday.
He was a senior, I was a sophomore, and Berkley was 13. Our parents
were out of town and our middle school math teacher, Ms. Winney, was
staying with us. Ted told me I was welcome to join in the birthday
festivities and I was beyond thrilled. Ted was cool, his friends were
cool and I got to be a part of it, if only for a Tuesday afternoon.
After
school, Ted and I drove around to various friends’ houses to pick them
up. We picked up Hunter. He had something wrapped in a gray sweatshirt. I
asked him what it was and he said it was his pet, José. “What is it???”
I asked, so naive. “Want to see?” Hunter replied. “No! If it’s a snake,
I am NOT touching it!” Ted and Hunter and the other friends laughed and
laughed.
By
four in the afternoon, a small group had assembled in our backyard,
drinking beer and tequila, smoking cigarettes, laughing in the gray
midwestern November. I have no idea where Ms. Winney was.
Somehow,
in the midst of the partying, Ted managed to get me to and from my
tennis lesson and I also ended up on time for my choir rehearsal, but I
think someone else drove me there. I didn’t drink or smoke anything that
day. “Someday, Hopie…” his friends taunted. “Hey, I think it’s cool
that she’s doing her own thing,” Ted said in my defense. “She’s here
chilling with us and making her own choices. That’s awesome.” It felt so
good to be tucked under Ted’s wing like that. I was so safe there. I
could be myself with Ted. Guaranteed.
It
was one of my best days in high school. Hanging out with all these guys
I thought were so cool. And feeling like I totally belonged, because my
big brother said I did.
After
choir rehearsal, I went back to my normal school-day routine—homework,
chatting with friends, going to bed at a decent hour. Ted’s celebration,
however, carried long into the night. They moved the party to Don
Pablo’s, a mediocre Mexican restaurant where Ted had worked and was
buddies with the bartender. He also got a tattoo that night—his
astrological sign, scorpio, on his calf.
On
Ted's more recent birthdays, I could always count on him to actually
pick up his phone--something he normally never did. We’d talk for a good
long time. He’d ask me all about what was going on in my life, how his
little nieces were doing. He’d listen to my stupid stories about the
cute stuff they were saying and he’d laugh. I always thought it was so
generous of him to have such a long phone conversation on his birthday
because I knew I wasn’t the only one he’d be talking to that day.
My
generous, welcoming and extremely accepting big brother, thank you for
making me feel awesome at the peak of my awkward years. Thank you
telling me I was okay for being the way I was, when all I felt was that I
should be something different.
I
will miss our birthday calls. I will miss hearing your laugh on the
other end of the phone. I will miss having someone to talk with who was
so validating, so affirming, so ready to tell me how awesome I’m doing,
without a hint of judgment.
Ted, you got some pretty awesome gifts for your birthdays over those years. But you gave even bigger ones.
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Thank you Hopie for this beautiful submission.
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