A Man for All Seasons

I can understand now why Loren always said he wanted to move “back home.” By that he meant back home to Rochester, NY, where he was born. We always pooh-poohed the idea, but he was adamant. He loved the Rochester area, it’s beauty and rich historical legacy. Also he was a four-seasons man. He was a man for all seasons. Going “back home” meant not only Rochester, but I think also anywhere with four seasons. He loved summer, fall, winter and spring. He embraced all seasons equally. He hiked all seasons. He hiked all paths.

Now it is winter. I got to a point where I really didn’t like this long, cold season. I welcomed a more temperate climate in Washington, DC, where daffodils push through the ground at the end of February. We had our winters, often lots of snow, but they were short. Florida outshined even DC. I grew to love the warmth and especially the winter months in southcentral Florida on the Gulf Coast. I didn’t miss winter at all. No snow, no ice, no shoveling, flowers all year round.

But Loren did. He missed winter, and since becoming reacquainted with it during my time in Ukraine, I can see why.

Not that he didn’t love Florida, too. He did, wholeheartedly, in the glorious way he had. He loved Florida’s flora and fauna, it’s rivers and streams, it’s forests and farmland, its orange groves and strawberry patches. He loved hiking its trails. Wholeheartedly. That was Loren.

Whenever he came to visit me in St. Pete from Tallahassee he’d make stops at local, state and national parks along the way to explore them, to bird watch, to listen to nature’s sounds. He did this wherever he traveled. For me it was always getting to the destination. For Loren, it was the process along the way, it was the journey. While it took me 5 hours to get to and from Tallahassee, it took Loren all day. It was his way. He immersed himself in the environment he loved, that gave him so much satisfaction and joy.

So Loren missed the turning of nature from one season to the next, the natural order of the universe, the journey of time. We’d tell him it was silly to think of going ‘back home." I’d jokingly tell him “you can’t go home again,” as many novelists and philosophers have written. But he insisted, and more so as he gained more understanding of and confidence in himself, in his own thoughts and ideas. He grew impatient with all the advise Andy and I had for him. He staked out his own ground, and held firm, sometimes just for the sake of holding firm, we felt, but now I see he needed to do that. He needed to assert his unique identity, to make himself heard, to be taken seriously, to put his overbearing sisters in our places. I’m so glad he did. I wish I could tell him so.

I have a feeling this is a human condition: this tendency to not fully appreciate someone until after they are gone. It’s a tendency, I’ll call it that for now, to let daily life get in the way of more meaningful exchanges, deeper relationships. I wish I had talked more to my Italian-born grandparents, for example, asked more questions, shown more interest, learned their stories. I wish I had listened more to my mom and dad, taken their advise, been more appreciative when I was growing up, been less arrogant in my ego defenses and my own inner uncertainties.

Maybe some people can do that, go through all the developmental stages from youth to adulthood with open minds and hearts. I am a slow learner. I have regrets. I sometimes feel guilty about it, about the mistakes I’ve made, about my inability to get out of myself and really take in what others say and do and think. Without defenses, without judgment, without opinions that need to be expressed, without screening. I didn't know myself enough to be able to be in the now with others, fully present and open.

Loren was my mentor in this, but I thought I was his. It was the other way around. I was too arrogant, too self-absorbed, too immature to know it. I could have listened better while he was alive. I could have put aside my habitual responses and just opened up to him. When I did that, and sometimes I could do it, I saw Loren’s brilliance, uniqueness and beauty. I saw the world from his perspective. I saw his soul.

It keeps me going, because my brother knew it when I was present with him, and he opened up, like a flower. It’s why we were soulmates. It’s why he put up with me. He knew I had a better side, and I knew he had a kind of wholeness that was sacred. My dearest brother, a man for all seasons.