When I was growing up and eight years old, my sister introduced Tony into my life.  He was her boyfriend, and soon would become my best friend, and big “Brudder”. 

Tony had “hands of gold”.  Within his broad toolbox of skills was that of a master-builder of model warships, airplanes and anything armored.   He built all sorts of them, mostly from balsa wood, paper or plastic.   Tony also was the owner of a Red Ryder BB gun, the kind made famous by the Christmas Story TV show. I can personally attest to his sharpshooting skill with this weapon – a skill he honed and maintained over the 70 plus years he owned that rifle.   And it was the confluence of his building and sharpshooter talents that brought some of the brightest times to my childhood, and bonded us as brothers.

You see, just about every week, we would build some model together and then retire to the basement of my home where we would insert the model into its “natural” environment.  Under Tony’s direction, planes would become airborne by hanging them up with strings, boats would float in a utility-sink ocean of water, tanks would rumble along the battlefield terrain he constructed on an elevated wooden platform that straddled two sawhorses. 

He and I would then move to a pair of chairs whose backs faced the models.  We would level our BB guns on the chair backs and proceed to blast the crap out of the models, till they either fell, sunk or were otherwise reduced to powder.  Over the years, we probably destroyed more planes, ships and tanks then the Allies in WW II.  And our little Band of Brothers of two became inseparable.

I don’t know exactly when it happened, but I think it was when I started dating.  It was around then I let my Brudder down.  I committed the unpardonable sin of growing up – abandoning Tony to fight alone on make-believe war-fields.  Oh, we still remained extremely close, but adulthood responsibilities got too much in the way for us to play like before.  I think he forgave me though because he found many new friends to play with, in his nieces, nephews and grand nephews

Tony lived to eighty-five, but I don’t think he ever really grew-up.

Until we play again on the other side, Rest in Peace, Big Brudder.