My brother is gay and I love him

My brother Bruce had the world in his grip…

Born in 1946, he was the first and ONLY child of the Smith and Reed family after World War II. As such, he had loving parents, proud grandparents, and loving aunts and uncles. He was a fairly precocious child who never competed with any other child for affection and attention.

Life was good for Bruce.

And then I showed up on May 11, 1951. My parents promptly moved his bedroom to a converted porch at the front of our house, and I declared his old room my childhood room because it was closer to my parents’ bedroom.

Growing up, I benefited greatly from being the younger kid. I always had someone to play with, and Bruce was a creative brother. One summer we cleaned out the storage room behind our garage and turned it into a “space school.” This was around the time the Russians launched the Sputnik satellite and the space race began!

Of course, Bruce called himself a “teacher” and our neighbor Jim and I became his “students.”

One day my father brought home a used mimeograph machine. The next day we formed the K & B Publishing Company and began publishing a weekly newspaper, “The Evergreen Times,” which we hand-delivered to our neighbors on Evergreen Street. (Of course, Bruce appointed himself editor and publisher, while I was demoted to reporter and messenger.)

It was clear by elementary school that Bruce was an exceptional student. He earned perfect grades, excelled in science fairs and extracurricular activities, and showed signs of musical ability. His fifth-grade teacher, Mrs. Beagley, saw a spark in him and insisted he begin piano lessons. My parents, who had limited income, scraped together enough money to rent a used piano, and Mrs. Beagley secretly paid for his lessons.

Bruce flourished in junior high and high school…at Enochs Junior High and Central High. He was elected Central’s student body president in 1964, was the most accomplished and well-rounded student, and was inducted into the CHS Hall of Fame.

Years later, when I arrived at Central, I was often greeted with… “Ohh, so YOU’re Bruce’s brother!” (The teachers didn’t mean this as a friendly introduction. My reputation as an average student compared to Bruce preceded me from my time at Enochs.)

Bruce graduated from Central as a finalist for a National Merit Scholarship and was offered a “free education” at Ole Miss with a Carrier Scholarship that covered all tuition, books, meals, and even a month’s living expenses. He turned down the offer because he wanted to experience “something different” and ended up at Tulane University in New Orleans.

After receiving his bachelor’s degree in English from Tulane University, he moved to the University of Rochester in New York for his master’s and doctorate. He began his career as a professor of English with a focus on Shakespeare studies at Georgetown University in Washington.

He was highly regarded as an expert on Shakespeare’s literature, with a particular emphasis on the “sound” in Shakespeare’s plays. (I have absolutely NO idea what that means.)

At my parent’s house, the traditional Easter lunch was grilled burgers, baked beans, potato salad, and strawberry cake. My family arrived at my parent’s house and I noticed my mom standing at the sink with her back to us, not saying a word.

Something told me: “The mood here is not right.” Finally, I asked: “What’s going on?”

“You need to talk to your dad. It’s about Bruce.”

“Why… is he gay?”

“How did you know?”

My immediate reaction was, “Well, he’s my brother and he’s your son. We’re going to love him.”

Bruce was worried about how I would react to his news. He called me later that evening to have a long talk. He knew and respected my personal faith and beliefs and was concerned about the future of our relationship.

“Well, you know that the Bible is the source of truth for my life, and I personally believe in a literal interpretation. Even though I don’t accept that lifestyle as being compatible with my faith, I will NEVER stop loving you, being proud of you, and enjoying our memories and future ones.

To be honest, our relationship became even closer after that. My mother had a lot of trouble accepting it and questioned herself and her role as the “cause” of this situation. But my father and I never let it affect us and we enjoyed many years together.

Bruce and his husband Gordon came home to visit us for Easter a few weeks ago. He met all five of his great nieces and nephews and we had a wonderful time reminiscing, spending time alone together and just talking.

He and I hardly agree on anything politically or theologically.

Every Christmas he gave me a subscription to the New York Times, New York magazine and the Atlantic. I accused him of trying to “radicalize” me for his liberal agenda.

But some of his tactics worked. They opened my eyes to a broader view of people, other beliefs and views that I didn’t necessarily agree with, but I understood that others had the right to believe and live their lives just as I did.

My wife and I took a Rhine River cruise two weeks ago for our 50th anniversary. Bruce was so excited about our trip. He was constantly emailing me with things I should eat, places I should see, and even different wines I should try… even though he knew I didn’t drink! The night before we left, we spoke on the phone for two hours.

As soon as we landed in Amsterdam, I started sending him texts with pictures and places we had seen. A day or two later, I still hadn’t received a response, which was unusual.

Two days into the cruise, my wife and I had just sat down to dinner when I made the mistake of checking my email and was horrified to see an email from his husband, Gordon, saying he had found Bruce dead on the floor of his home office in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

“Numb” is not a strong enough word. And being 8,000 kilometers away is not exactly conducive to starting the grieving process.

I recently finished reading a book by Jene Barranco, the widow of Michael Barranco. She talks about the “waves of grief” that come unexpectedly. I fear I am experiencing the first waves of a hurricane coming my way as I say goodbye to Bruce.

I still love Bruce Smith, I’m proud of him and I’m still proud to be his little brother…

Kendall Smith is a Northsider.