The concept of brotherhood:

When I say that I am a brother to someone the immediate conclusion that they come to is that there must be something wrong with me as I have just stated something far too obvious to be of note. Of course, I am a brother, I am Lindsey’s brother. This is a rather odd thing to write as I cannot recall a time when I would have ever made that declaration out loud. All that nonsense aside, I will not be writing about my relationship with my sister. While she is my only sibling and best friend, she is not the focus for today.

When I say that I am a brother, I am referring to the fact that I have been made a brother to others. At this point, the second paragraph from this piece, one might be thinking, Richard just go to bed it is ten pm and you are clearly delusional from the coffee you have recently taken up drinking. Yes, I know it’s late, but please allow me to make my point with a story:

It was a dark and stormy night: high school, freshmen year. In fact, it was an afternoon, and a very nice one at that; however, emotionally, one might say that it was a dark and stormy existence. I recall standing in the main hallway just outside the cafeteria, talking with a small group of friends. The forty-five-minuet lunch break had almost ended, and I was preparing myself to face another two classes (when in high school a little mental preparation goes a long way).

I was standing there, not paying much attention to what the conversation was, or whom were conversing, when suddenly I was swept up (literally) and carried by my arms and legs down the crowded main hallway. I noticed numerous judgmental glances were cast my way while on my very abrupt and much unwelcome odyssey.

At once I knew the identities of the two assailants. Two of my scouting friends had taken it upon themselves to escort me down main hall in full view of nearly half of the school’s population. For the two of them, this was nothing new. For the past few weeks, the two of them had taken to randomly abducting members from our group of friends during lunch when least expected. It would seem that today, it was my turn to be unceremoniously subjected to this treatment.

Of course, no one had ever been harmed by this course of action as Charles and Jacob were not of a particularly malicious variety of gentlemen. Today, the trip would be a short one. The hall monitor had stopped the two of them before they had reached the front doors.

“What gives you the right to do this to this boy?” was the reprimand.

It was a fair question. I had given no reason to be treated this way by my best friends that I had known for roughly four years. I suppose the reason that they could have given was that they were my best friends of roughly four years and that I had given them no reason for this impromptu abduction. This was not the response that was given. It would be impossible for me to state in this piece the mere efficiency and total lack of deliberation that prompted the response from the ever-insightful Jacob L. Johnson. To this day I am absolutely stunned by how fast his response came.

To give some context, Jacob and I are not similar in the least. That is to say, we look nothing alike. There would be absolutely no reason to mistake me for a brother of Jacob. And yet, without any hesitation or forethought from Jacob, “He’s my little brother.”

Effortless delivery. So totally and completely natural was his response, that even I believed him, if even for a moment. In that moment, however, the hall monitor had turned to face me.

“Is that true?” he inquired.

“Yes,” I replied, for I honestly believed that word was the correct and honest response.

“Then I bet you deal with this a lot?” he suggested.

“Yes,” again, although this time a little less convincing.

At that the hall monitor turned and walked away. Leaving me with my older brother, and our mutual friend, his mouth agape from the flawless delivery, and subsequent follow through, of an outright lie to a school employee.

“Later bud,” said Jacob triumphantly.

“Yes,” I said. My thoughts were somewhat different: even if you were my brother, what…is he just going to let you…but…what?

So, I am a brother. I really do mean that too. At some point friendship just fails to describe some relationships. I believe that, at this point, I can make the argument that if you can convince someone else that you are a brother to get out of trouble, then there must be some truth to that.

A brother may not be a friend, but a friend will always be a brother – Thomas Jefferson