David – My Brother

David Lynn Porter was born June 24, 1953, a year and a half before me. In the eternal scheme of things, a year and a half isn’t much, but through the past fifty three years he has ever remained “my older brother.”

David was born with a sense of perfection and a desire to implement it. When we got our first rotary lawn mower I remember him showing me how to checkerboard the lawn by going over it twice. It’s lucky it was self-propelled or he might have had mutiny on his hands.

When it was someone else’s turn for doing the dishes he would inspect our work to make sure everything was done to his exacting standards.

We lived together in an upstairs attic room, along with our brother Evan, that was lined with knotty pine. It had a walk-in closet inside and a small closet on the landing just outside the door. His was on the landing of course, isn’t that how it is with older brothers – they get what they want.

Believe me when I tell you that it was the coolest room in the universe. It was the gathering place for all our friends. It ebbed and flowed with all our creative ventures, but always remained knotty pine – now the eaves under my backyard patio. We were always arranging and rearranging the beds. We had a trundle bed that we left out so someone could sleep under the higher bed. I remember our long evening talks. I’m sure it was mostly David talking. He was very popular and athletic and I loved hearing about all the going ons of his friends and their activities.

Over the years we had several common friends. The first was Jimmy Powell. Jimmy and David were avid skiers – the best in Utah County, I thought. Jimmy and I became partners in crime, which David, for the most part, stayed away from.

As the sixties bloomed around us, we acquired a black light and began to put posters of our favorite rock groups on the walls. Dad invested some of our hard earned money in penny stocks and we bought a nice stereo system. I painted a staff with black light paint, and with incense burning, we danced and sang to the beat of the sixties.

In Jr. High, David took wood shop. We acquired some plywood, 2 X 8’s, naugahide and padding and made three waterbeds. We used a flour and water paste and plastered the closet walls with pictures from magazines, then painted the molding orange and yellow.

We had the first 8 track tape recorder and were always recording albums onto 8 track tapes for friends. We had quite a selection of music that we acquired through our thrift and five finger discount.

To earn our money we mowed lawns, picked cherries, hoed tomatoes, and in our teenage years worked at the Grandview Café. I could never do anything better than David and he reminded me of this quite often. I’m sure it was true. He was born with a work ethic that gave him the ability to spin straw into gold. He knew how to save, used his money wisely, always bought quality and took care of what he had.

When I was ten mom and dad told me that if I earned half the money they would pay the other fifty dollars to buy me a five-speed stingray bike. My great accomplishment was shattered a week later when it was stolen. It wasn’t until years later that David confessed that he had taken it to Miracle bowl and leaving it unlocked, it was stolen. Maybe that’s why when he bought a orange Porsche 914 he let me borrow it sometimes.

Whenever he did something for me or let me use his things there was a price associated with it; tickling his back, massages, cleaning and waxing his car…When I left to go on a mission he bought my albums and stereo equipment, but gave back, what was left of them, when I returned.

One summer, dad had a meeting in Montana, so he dropped David, Lonnie Kallas and myself off in Yellowstone. It was my first experience drinking alcohol – our journeys of self-medication had begun.

David was a tennis player. One summer he was in the finals of thirteen tournaments and won only one. He wouldn’t let mom watch him. I wanted to be as good as he was. David was #1 on the A-team and I was #1 on the B-team. It was that summer that I learned that I had cataracts and would gradually lose my eyesight. I still remember and appreciate the discipline that tennis helped me develop. It was the love of David’s life - the backyard of his present home being a tennis court.

In the spring of 1974 dad got me a job on the railroad, working on the tie gang in the desert near Woodside, Utah. It was the hardest thing I had ever done. I persevered day in and day out – I was walking exhaustion. Living at Grandma and Grandpa Porters gave me a break from old friends and family and I started contemplating more earnestly the purpose of life. On trips home David continued to remind me of his superior work ability and ethic. I was determined to be the best worker on the railroad.

For once, David decided to follow me in employment opportunities. He camped out at the Helper train station, in front of Mike Kannaris’ office and asked for a job every time he walked in or out. After several days he rewarded his perseverance with a job on the rail gang. The first day they transported him to Soldier Summit, where he was working with people of many nationalities. The work was hard. He lasted til noon, then walked the twenty miles to Helper to get his car and return home. I was no longer living in the shadow of my older brother, I now was my own man. One weekend, when I was home, he was trying to enforce one of his dictates. I wrestled him down and threw him in the bush. I gained a little more equality in our relationship that day.

Our lives diverged, conflicts arose between friends, but David ever remained David – a hard worker, committed to quality. He traveled to Australia and Japan to work and see the world. I trekked through the mountains seeking direction and peace. I decided to quit the railroad and return to school. Everyone thought I was crazy. Back home at my farewell dinner David asked what I was going to become. I thought for a while and answered, “a philosopher.” He fell off his chair laughing. That one experience charted the course of the next year and a half of my life – I was determined to become a philosopher.

Water passes under bridges, time rolls on and peoples lives become complicated and increasingly more difficult, but when we live according to a set of unerring principles we snatch moments of peace and accomplishment. David’s hard work paid off in the form of a home, nice possessions, faithful friends and a family. When Denice and I were first married we lived behind David and Kathy. Kathy would have me test some of her new dishes before she fed them to David.

We moved to Pleasant Grove and put a wood burning stove in our basement. David also had one and we became woodcutting buddies. On our rides to and fro, in my rickety old truck and trailer, we discussed our lives and what we were becoming. With a few beers down him the ride home turned into a discussion of our beliefs, religion and what it all means. He was always fishing for my approbation. He wanted to know that I respected him for who he was. Of course I did, but I was too selfish and immature to come right out and say it. Those days passed and so did the fishing for approbation, but as I matured I found myself looking for ways to capture those lost moments. David I appreciate you for the example, friend and mentor you have been in my life. I made a commitment this summer that I was going to strengthen our relationship, to help and support you through the difficult recovery you were going to have with your shoulder. I know what you were facing because I’ve been dealing with it for the past eight years. Your OCD and my ADD have both enriched and battered our lives. Finding outlets for our compulsive behaviors has been a lifetime quest. My life is tied to yours with so many unseen cords. There is so much I could say, so much that I want to say, but only one thing I need to say, I love you David – my brother.

David took his life on July 2, 2008.