My biggest brother, always tall and wise beyond your years. My childhood memories of you are slim, six years my senior--I remember vividly a protector, a quiet and present conscience and most importantly, a role model.
I don't know if I've ever said this to you out loud, but I look up to you in some many ways. I remember Dad saying that you came home from winning the gold medal at the national Academic Decathalon competition in writing, and I went to school the next day and bragged to all of my friends that you were the best writer in the whole country.
I kept a photo of you in my wallet after that, for some reason. I'd show you around middle school and say, he's smart and handsome! Well, not always:
But really, the best writer in ALL OF AMERICA. What a guy! It shows, I still read back through some of your well-put-together email chain arguments with the uncles when I'm tempted to send something in all caps instead. It always grounds me.
That's the thing, Dad, Eli and I all share a fairly fiery temper and a loud mouth. Those two combined can make a tough conversation tougher. So sometimes I think about your calm, generally collected, meticulously logical format of analysis and it takes the flame down to some more useful and long-lasting charcoals. The way you approach a problem is always impressive. I also have a memory of flying back to Hawaii and the pilot announced a competition:
Who could calculate how long the rest of the flight would take given the wind speeds, mileage left and average pace? The person who could get the closest got some sweet prize. You and several other passengers (including myself, who got lost drawing trains and point A to point B and trying to scramble for my Algebra) went to work. I think you won a bottle of wine which you graciously passed to Mom and Dad. I thought for you, oh darn! He didn't get a prize.
But then you looked at me with that huge, almost maniacally proud grin on your face, and I knew that you just wanted to win. The triumph of being the best on that whole damn plane was enough. A Robinson, no matter how you swing it. :) Kind of like this I think:
Anyway. In the last year I got to spend more than two incredible holidays and many incredible moments with you, two of my favorites being the speech you gave at Eli's wedding and watching you get prepped for your own wedding in Thailand. Both of which are pictured here:
The speech made me cry, bud. It was probably the first time I had ever heard you speak publicly about the major health issues you got through a while back, and you talked about how grateful you were that Eli had come to support you in that time. Two pretty emotional things happened in me at that moment. The first was that perhaps for the first time, I realized my biggest brother wasn't invulnerable. I mean, I've known all my life that your health has always been both an obstacle and an incredible accomplishment--but something about hearing it that day really hit it home for me. The second thing I took away was that I haven't gotten to know you in the ways I wish I could have. It was a bit like listening to a speech from someone I've known forever but I haven't really ever sat down with and had a heart-to-heart with. Really--I've known you my entire life.
Anyway, your wedding in Thailand was life-changing. For a couple of reasons. 1. You look so dapper in eyeliner. 2. You can't just lie about knowing four languages to the people at the third gate. Your bride was at stake!
All joking aside, I couldn't have been more grateful for the life experience that trip gave me, and for a momentous occasion! I couldn't even feel the stress on you and Oy, though I'm sure there was plenty!
I can't wait to get to know you more, brother, and I love you so very much. Thank you for always being an inspiration, a shoulder to lean on, and helping lock Eli out of the house when he was being a jerk.
Love,
Leina`ala
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