Now that he is gone, it has become clear what a presence Zachary was in my life. Memories, images, mannerisms and items appear in my mind at random, out of the blue, involuntarily. Each one of them, however meaningless it would have seemed a month ago, now has weight and makes it obvious what Zach added to my life. There is a windbreaker that has been sitting in the trunk of my car for 13 months. Zachary gave me this when I visited him in Maine on a rainy day. For 13 months this was a piece of clothing that I didn’t need at the moment. Now it is one of the countless reminders of who Zachary was, revealing one angle of his multi-faceted personality—his generosity.
My many memories of Zachary combine to create a rich and complex representation of what he was (and still is) to me. This is unique, created by the peculiar chemistry of two brothers. The memories that others hold of him reveal another unique angle, that created from the chemistry of mother and son, father and son, sister and brother, friend, lover, whatever. By sharing our memories of Zachary, we are revealing new, unseen aspects of his personality to one another. He was a larger person than any one of us could fully grasp alone.
For me, Zach represented activity, good health, living life. Going out and doing something rather than thinking about it for hours. But even staying in became more interesting with Zach. While visiting our parents we would play badminton for hours, shouting at each other the whole time, in obnoxious voices, pretending to be top competitors in “the Golden Birdie Tournament”. He always beat me—now I can admit it.
Being around Zach had a similar impact on me as reading Hemingway; under his influence the physical world seemed full of richness. I remember fondly the few days I spent with Zach and Kirstin in Maine the past two summers. I have a suspicion Zach didn’t even like fishing, but this didn’t stop us from spending 8 hours walking around getting sunburnt and dehydrated, catching just two or three pickerel, but enjoying ourselves nonetheless (though this reminds me that he never repaid me for that $10 frog lure he cast into a tree!). Being around Zach always meant eating well, also. Whether it’s a cup of coffee, a pizza, or a cheesecake, eating well was something to be practiced and improved upon.
More than anything, I remember goofing around with Zach, to the point where we would exasperate everyone within 50 feet of us. We went to play tennis on the courts at Bowdoin College and couldn’t stop making exaggerated screeches and grunts when we served (frequently failing to make contact with the tennis ball entirely).I apologize to real tennis players. At family dinners we would both put on our persona of right-wing radio talk show host, always trying to one up each other, screeching in nasally voices about the importance of testing welfare recipients to ensure they have not been taking bubble baths, “I work hard for my money! Do I take bubble baths? No! But the liberals want these dirty dogs to just lounge about all day in bubble baths! This is an atrocity! We need to test them for bubble residue…”
As an older brother I might have been condescending at times—maybe this is why I was surprised at other sides of Zach that appeared. He would share his photos occasionally, and I was struck by how good they had gotten. He had patience, perseverance, perfectionism, and a great eye; he revealed perspectives of common scenes that made them uncommon and new. He was devoted and a hard worker. But I will probably start getting maudlin now, so I will stop. Otherwise Zach will surely mock me when we meet again.