My brother was an extraordinary human being and learned to play the guitar just by listening to
songs. And he wrote several of his own songs. We wrote together as well. I played the
piano.
Dave was never far ahead of me. For I followed him wherever he went. We were inseparable.
Later in our teens, we even double dated. See.. he had to approve of the guys that were
asking me out. And they were afraid of the "Griz". He stood 6'2" and weighed in at a lean 220.
My brother was a giving person, and never liked hanging out with people "who had money"
he'd say. There were nights he would shop for food and take it to neighbors who were less
financially secure than we were.
He always wanted to include the kids that others mocked and laughed at. Since Dave was a
leader, it was never long before other kids accepted the outcasts as well. He was a
peacemaker..... unless angered.. but that's another story.
"Gabe" as the family called him so often (my mom wanted to name him Gabriel at birth) was a
competitor. He played football, baseball, basketball and exceeded at each one. My parents
still have all the trophies. So many.
The memories of my childhood growing up on a farm are memories so cherishable, that it is
bittersweet in every aspect possibly known to the human spirit. We had motorcycles and
horses. I wrecked plenty times on all. But I never gave up chasing after my big brother. I was
definitely a tomboy who also loved playing sports. So, we clicked very well. Even our
birthdays are only 3 days apart, which we always celebrated together with one cake.
August 17, 1982. I was 18. My brother 20. We were at his house, having a small get-together
with a few close friends, singing, playing music all night long. My last request of the night was
"Stairway to Heaven". Dave sang and played it beautifully. As he sat down the guitar,
someone was getting his revolver out of the coffee table. Gabe grabbed it and began talking
about it. "We goof around with this thing." He'd say speaking of another one of his friends.
"We spin the revolver like this and point it at something, then click." "But we'd never do this..."
He placed the barrel of the pistol to his right temple and pulled the trigger.
That was the end of my brother's beautiful life.
songs. And he wrote several of his own songs. We wrote together as well. I played the
piano.
Dave was never far ahead of me. For I followed him wherever he went. We were inseparable.
Later in our teens, we even double dated. See.. he had to approve of the guys that were
asking me out. And they were afraid of the "Griz". He stood 6'2" and weighed in at a lean 220.
My brother was a giving person, and never liked hanging out with people "who had money"
he'd say. There were nights he would shop for food and take it to neighbors who were less
financially secure than we were.
He always wanted to include the kids that others mocked and laughed at. Since Dave was a
leader, it was never long before other kids accepted the outcasts as well. He was a
peacemaker..... unless angered.. but that's another story.
"Gabe" as the family called him so often (my mom wanted to name him Gabriel at birth) was a
competitor. He played football, baseball, basketball and exceeded at each one. My parents
still have all the trophies. So many.
The memories of my childhood growing up on a farm are memories so cherishable, that it is
bittersweet in every aspect possibly known to the human spirit. We had motorcycles and
horses. I wrecked plenty times on all. But I never gave up chasing after my big brother. I was
definitely a tomboy who also loved playing sports. So, we clicked very well. Even our
birthdays are only 3 days apart, which we always celebrated together with one cake.
August 17, 1982. I was 18. My brother 20. We were at his house, having a small get-together
with a few close friends, singing, playing music all night long. My last request of the night was
"Stairway to Heaven". Dave sang and played it beautifully. As he sat down the guitar,
someone was getting his revolver out of the coffee table. Gabe grabbed it and began talking
about it. "We goof around with this thing." He'd say speaking of another one of his friends.
"We spin the revolver like this and point it at something, then click." "But we'd never do this..."
He placed the barrel of the pistol to his right temple and pulled the trigger.
That was the end of my brother's beautiful life.
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