Son, Brother

This is for Cody.

“Me and all my friends, we’ve got nothing to prove, nothing to lose.”

All Jeremy ever knew how to do was leave.

He was born on April 25, 1923 to John and Margaret Fitzgerald; Irish immigrants who resided in Boston, Massachusetts. Jeremy was 7 pounds and 4 ounces and had eyes that looked like ice. He was the third son for John and Margaret. He had two older brothers, Toby and Peter. Toby was just two years older than Jeremy. Peter was five when Jeremy was born.

After living and breathing for two short years, Jeremy saw his mother give birth to a little girl. They named her Mary and Jeremy loved her. Just one year later the final baby for the Fitzgerald family was introduced to the world. Her name was Sara and she was just as adorable as Mary. The Fitzgerald family was now complete and seemed to be happy.

John and Margaret met in Ireland when they were just 17. They married two years later and decided they would not die in Ireland. They chose to move to America: the home of the free and the land of opportunity. After passing through Ellis Island, they made the decision that New York was not the place for them. They had heard about Boston and the large Irish community there so they went in hopes of finding work, affordable living, and a sense of comfort. They had Peter, the first son, when they were 23 in 1918. They were not yet financially stable, but Boston’s factory industry was booming in post-war America and Peter managed to take advantage of his opportunity with hard work and the street smarts he learned from his father. Even though this was a far cry from Ireland, they settled in.

Once they had had five children they decided to call it quits with the babies. John was a great father and husband. He would stop at nothing to care for his family. He put family first and everything else second. Unfortunately, drinking was second. John was an angry drunk. If there were times when he had a little extra spending money he would spend time with the bottle. Jeremy was only five when this habit developed into a problem. John began verbally abusing his wife and oldest son. Peter was now 10 and occasionally became the subject of his fathers drunken rants. At the end of the day though, John put food on the table and you would be hard pressed to find a better sober father. In his three boys he instilled qualities like respect, work ethic, pride, and passion. All three looked up to their father.

Then the depression came. John lost his job and was struggling to support his family. They lost everything. Their house, their clothes, and, most importantly, their sense of security. It was 1931 when Peter became severely ill from starvation and exhaustion. He was just 13 years old when he had to start working in a factory to help keep the family floating. The Fitzgerald’s couldn’t afford hospital bills and Peter began slipping. He died that year. Just another dead boy in another starving city. A snapshot of the time.

In great despair, John and Margaret decided to make a move. Tulsa, Oklahoma was considered the “Oil Capital of the World.” Using the same work ethic and street smarts that aided him in Boston, John hoped to take advantage of another booming industry. He was unsure if he would find work, but Peter’s death spoiled the American Dream for him. He hated Boston for what it did to his first son. He took the family to Tulsa and found work quickly. Unfortunately, with the realization that he would not let another son die in Boston, his drinking got worse.

Jeremy and Toby had a strong bond after Peter’s death. Toby’s personality was naturally charming and bright. He was a care taker and a giver. When he walked in a room he had everyone’s attention. He was outgoing, smart, and confident. Jeremy was the opposite. He was rarely noticed, very reserved, and hardly ever spoke. He did learn how to take care of people from his father and brother, though. Toby dealt with Peter’s death by becoming even more vibrant, while Jeremy became even more reserved. Toby and John had a special connection as well. Everybody loved Toby. Jeremy loved Toby, too. Jeremy was not a jealous younger brother, he played his role well. But what Toby was to Jeremy, Jeremy was to his younger sisters. They looked up to Jeremy for the way he dealt with tough situations. He was stoic and unflappable. He never faltered. He had that in common with John and Toby.

The train ride to Tulsa was long. Jeremy couldn’t sleep on trains. Once they arrived and got settled, the townspeople accepted them as a part of their community and life went on. Life in Oklahoma was a far car from the hustle and bustle of Boston, but they adopted a new way of life and adapted to their social environment. In small towns, one persons business is everyone‘s business. A big city has privacy. The Fitzgerald’s never told anyone about Peter, but John’s drinking visibly got worse. He became physically violent with Margaret. She had to hide the scars and the bruises.

John was working for an oil company and making pretty decent money. Once night after John had been drinking for quite sometime, he looked over at Jeremy who was just staring blankly ahead of him. John looked at him and said, “How come you don’t ever say nothing, boy?”

Thirteen year old Jeremy gave no response.

“Do you hear me, boy?”

No response. John pulled out a knife.

“If you don’t say anything, I’m going to cut your neck open wider than the Mississippi, do you hear me?”

Still no response. No fear in Jeremy’s eyes, and no fear in John’s. Jeremy’s eyes were filled with confusion.

This was not the father he knew.

“What are you some kind of fucking mute?”

At this point, Toby heard the voice of his father and went to see what was going on. He immediately came to the defense of Jeremy.

“Stop yelling at him, Dad, just leave him alone.”

In a moment of drunken rage, John said “Shut the fuck up, and mind your business.” He cut Toby across the face.

They never spoke about the incident ever again.

These incidents started happening more often. John became increasingly violent. Toby became increasingly popular around town and Jeremy became increasingly reserved. Life went on.

Four years passed. It was 1940 now. The Dust Bowl had been pestering residents of Texas and Oklahoma for a few years now, but nothing had been too bad in Northeast Oklahoma. Not until this day. A dust storm hit Tulsa like a brick. Houses got destroyed. The Fitzgerald’s house was a victim. The house collapsed. John, Margaret, Toby, Jeremy, and Mary made it out. Sara was crushed and killed. Just another dead girl in another lonely town.

The despair overwhelmed Margaret. The Fitzgerald’s managed to build their house back on the same property. Once it was built, Margaret couldn’t take it. She took John’s shotgun and killed herself in the backyard just three weeks after Sara was killed in the storm. Depression took John by storm. He drank more and more and became even more violent with his remaining family. Just another dead wife in her dead husbands arms. Just three dead children left behind in another dead town.

Jeremy and Toby became fixtures around the local hangouts. It was their only way of coping with the pain. They refused to sit around and dwell on their losses. Tulsa had managed to get back on its feet after the storm and the town was trying to recover. Bob Willis and the Texas Playboys began performing in Tulsa and the kids loved dancing. At one particular dance, Jeremy was observing a young lady named Elizabeth Stallworth. They were both 18 and Jeremy had fallen in love. He was far too shy to ever approach her and ask her out, but Elizabeth was interested in Jeremy as well. She approached him one night and asked him to dance. He agreed and shortly after they began dating.

Their relationship went well. They seemed to compliment each other very well. Elizabeth was just like Toby. Very outgoing, very popular, well-liked. Maybe sometimes opposites do attract. She didn’t know much about Jeremy’s past, and he preferred to keep it that way. Bottling up his emotions was just how he dealt with things. Elizabeth respected that.

Jeremy was 19 when his father died. He fell off the oil rig he was working on shattered his bone structure. Just another dead man in another dead town. A deadbeat father in a deadbeat world. No one ever really gave a fuck about him anyway.

At this point, Johns death was more of a relief for Jeremy, Toby, and Mary. They had grown tired of hiding the bruises. However, Toby and Jeremy were not making enough money to support their younger sister who was now 17 and becoming a young lady. They both worked for the company that was building Route 66, but they were young and inexperienced so they earned low wages. They did work hard, though. They learned that from their father.

Toby sat Jeremy down one night and said to him, “You know I love you, right.”

Jeremy said, “I know that.”

“Well, to keep you and Mary from going hungry, I have to make a sacrifice.”

“What do you mean?”

“I signed up to fight in this little war that America’s in. I’m set to leave in a week. Look, I’m going to be deployed for two years. You guys are going to receive my checks and I want you to take that money and spend only what you need and save the rest. When I get back, we’ll get the hell out of here and move to California where it’s sunny all year round. Take care of your sister because she’s all we have left. Keep working to stay busy, and make sure Elizabeth is okay. I’m not going to die here and neither are you and Mary. We’re going to get away from this shit. You understand?”

“I understand.”

Three years later when Jeremy was 21, a military officer came to his house and told him his brother, Toby, had been killed in action. He had been rewarded with a purple heart and it was on behalf of the country that Jeremy accept it. Jeremy did without a blink. He cried for three days and screamed for three nights. He lost his brother, his best friend. Just another dead boy in another dead bunker in another dead war in another dead country killed by another dead bullet from another dead gun held by another dead boy. They didn’t even know what they were fighting for.

A few weeks later he and Elizabeth were sitting in his kitchen, talking about Toby. Jeremy refused to say anything more than “It will be okay, I‘m going to be fine.”

Elizabeth became angry with his indifference.

“How come you just won’t open to me? How come you just won’t break down and show me emotion?”

“You have to understand that’s just not how I deal with things.”

“I can’t accept that. Do you even love me?”

“Of course.”

“Then say something.”

“I can’t.”

“I hate you Jeremy, I hate you.”

Jeremy got angry, “You don’t even know anything about me! I have two dead brothers, a dead sister, a dead father, and a dead mother. I have a history of violence. Everyone I have ever loved left me and I can’t open up to you because I’m afraid you’ll leave. I’m afraid of being the only one left.”

Elizabeth started to cry and Jeremy just walked away. Mary was all he had left. They began packing their bags for California. A day before they were going to leave, Jeremy decided to talk to Elizabeth one last time. He wasn’t sure if he was going to say good-bye or ask her to come with him. It had been two weeks since they had spoken. He sat in his house moments before leaving to talk to her when he decided he was going to ask her to marry him and leave for California.

When he got to her house there was a car out front. He walked inside to see her and another man kissing on her couch. He was enraged, but instead of confronting the man or Elizabeth he just walked away, emotionless. His icy eyes didn’t dig into Elizabeth, they just looked away.

The next day he and Mary left for California. He didn’t mention what he had seen the night before to Mary. The pain and losses crippled him. Right before they went to the train station he stopped at the bank to withdrawal what was left of Toby’s military checks. Just after putting the envelope full of money in his pocket, two men pulled out M1918 Browning Automatic Rifles. Jeremy tried to run and they shot him. The men took all the money in that bank and ran. Jeremy was dead.

There was only person in Jeremy’s life who never left him and that was Mary. Maybe she just never had the chance. She collapsed when she saw her dead brother, the only family she had left, on the floor soaked in blood. She moved to California and started over.

When Elizabeth heard what had happened she cried and cried and cried and cried. One day Elizabeth died in Tulsa, Oklahoma. She took her regret to the grave.

And Jeremy was sprawled out in that bank. Just another dead boy from another dead town with another dead father and another dead mother and two dead brothers and one dead sister. When his heart beat for that last time, all he could take with him was what he’d given away.


WW