Brother Jay
Last week, I got a call from my brother Leland that my brother Jay had passed away. For the past week, I've been down in Georgia, getting his viewing and funeral put together, as well as cleaning up his house, talking with the minister and his friends, paying bills, and so on.
Jay died at 60. He had been in declining health for the past few years, and didn't seem to want to recover too keenly. As we were gathering his photos and possessions for the viewing, the process gradually pulled me out of sadness and mourning, as it was fun to recall the stories behind these items, and surprising to discover new things about my brother.
He was an avid member of the Sons of Confederate Veterans, a Civil War re-enactment group. His troop was the 24th Georgia regiment, and they went to battle sites all across the nation to join other participants, Confederate and Union, in recreating the action. They stayed authentic as possible. They wore wool uniforms and marched in the hot Southern summers, shooting blank-loaded muskets that would add more to the heat and coat their faces with black powder. They would camp out in the rain and sing songs, and maybe pass around a little moonshine to clear their throats.
Jay kept several journals and a scrapbook of these escapades, and he had always wanted to write them up as a book. He was a real technophobe, though. I tried to make it as easy for him as possible to do this. I set up a shortcut on Leland's computer desktop so all he'd have to do is double-click the icon and open a MS Word file. He didn't quite understand how the mouse worked. He pushed it with all his might and scraped it to the edge of the desk, not thinking to lift it up. I tried to explain it to him, but he just muttered "I don't want to do this anymore" and left. I brought the journals back with me, and I'm going to make them into a tribute web site.
I guess you could say Jay was a redneck scholar. He usually sat in the front porch of the shack behind my parents' house, smoking a pipe and reading a book. He never acted like he was smarter than anybody, or showed any pretensions. He'd just throw an obscure historical fact out in the air every once in a while and take everybody by surprise. When the minister came over to ask for any funny stories for Jay's eulogy, I told him about the time I went to Western Carolina University, a little college in the Appalachian mountains, and we were going to play Clemson in football. Clemson was a category above us, and we knew they would murder us, but it was a festive occasion anyway. My roommate had his family up, and we all went to the game. After we got slaughtered, we came back to the house and had a party, and Jay joined us. We got to talking about Clemson's band. They dressed in white pith helmets and orange coats. Jay said they looked like the British when they fought the Zulus at Isandlwana. Everybody just stopped, agog. A friend asked me "Is your brother a genius?"
Some of his SCV buddies showed up at the funeral dressed in uniform. The Regiment chaplain gave the first eulogy, then they played a recording of Amazing Grace on bagpipes. The other minister then gave his eulogy, nicely painting Jay's life and accomplishments, keeping the whole speech positive and light-hearted. Afterwards, we went back to the house, had lunch, and drove Jay's ashes up to the family plot in Cullowhee. bearhand drove me, Leland and Jay's friend Tommy. Tommy is a true hillbilly, talking non-stop all the way there and back, telling mostly lies in that epic country boy style with introductory phrases like "Boys, I'm here to tell you right now..."
When we got to the family plot, the minister said a few more words, and asked if we had any last words for Jay. I repeated what I posted on Facebook: may he find General Robert E. Lee in Heaven and tell him how we could have won the war. Leland said a few things, and Tommy shouted out, "Keep fightin' them Yankees brother!" and gave a Rebel yell. The minister just smiled and said "I can tell you are truly Sons of the South."
Afterwards, we drove to Judaculla Rock, then went home. I think Jay would have liked our send-off. I could hear him laughing at Tommy.
Jay died at 60. He had been in declining health for the past few years, and didn't seem to want to recover too keenly. As we were gathering his photos and possessions for the viewing, the process gradually pulled me out of sadness and mourning, as it was fun to recall the stories behind these items, and surprising to discover new things about my brother.
He was an avid member of the Sons of Confederate Veterans, a Civil War re-enactment group. His troop was the 24th Georgia regiment, and they went to battle sites all across the nation to join other participants, Confederate and Union, in recreating the action. They stayed authentic as possible. They wore wool uniforms and marched in the hot Southern summers, shooting blank-loaded muskets that would add more to the heat and coat their faces with black powder. They would camp out in the rain and sing songs, and maybe pass around a little moonshine to clear their throats.
Jay kept several journals and a scrapbook of these escapades, and he had always wanted to write them up as a book. He was a real technophobe, though. I tried to make it as easy for him as possible to do this. I set up a shortcut on Leland's computer desktop so all he'd have to do is double-click the icon and open a MS Word file. He didn't quite understand how the mouse worked. He pushed it with all his might and scraped it to the edge of the desk, not thinking to lift it up. I tried to explain it to him, but he just muttered "I don't want to do this anymore" and left. I brought the journals back with me, and I'm going to make them into a tribute web site.
I guess you could say Jay was a redneck scholar. He usually sat in the front porch of the shack behind my parents' house, smoking a pipe and reading a book. He never acted like he was smarter than anybody, or showed any pretensions. He'd just throw an obscure historical fact out in the air every once in a while and take everybody by surprise. When the minister came over to ask for any funny stories for Jay's eulogy, I told him about the time I went to Western Carolina University, a little college in the Appalachian mountains, and we were going to play Clemson in football. Clemson was a category above us, and we knew they would murder us, but it was a festive occasion anyway. My roommate had his family up, and we all went to the game. After we got slaughtered, we came back to the house and had a party, and Jay joined us. We got to talking about Clemson's band. They dressed in white pith helmets and orange coats. Jay said they looked like the British when they fought the Zulus at Isandlwana. Everybody just stopped, agog. A friend asked me "Is your brother a genius?"
Some of his SCV buddies showed up at the funeral dressed in uniform. The Regiment chaplain gave the first eulogy, then they played a recording of Amazing Grace on bagpipes. The other minister then gave his eulogy, nicely painting Jay's life and accomplishments, keeping the whole speech positive and light-hearted. Afterwards, we went back to the house, had lunch, and drove Jay's ashes up to the family plot in Cullowhee. bearhand drove me, Leland and Jay's friend Tommy. Tommy is a true hillbilly, talking non-stop all the way there and back, telling mostly lies in that epic country boy style with introductory phrases like "Boys, I'm here to tell you right now..."
When we got to the family plot, the minister said a few more words, and asked if we had any last words for Jay. I repeated what I posted on Facebook: may he find General Robert E. Lee in Heaven and tell him how we could have won the war. Leland said a few things, and Tommy shouted out, "Keep fightin' them Yankees brother!" and gave a Rebel yell. The minister just smiled and said "I can tell you are truly Sons of the South."
Afterwards, we drove to Judaculla Rock, then went home. I think Jay would have liked our send-off. I could hear him laughing at Tommy.