Remembering My Older Brother Jay Strickland

Hello, and Greetings to all of you who have joined us here today to celebrate the life of our brother, Jay Strickland.  I’m Eric, Jay’s younger brother.

There were ten Strickland kids altogether. Seven of us were adopted, and three were “home made.” Jay was one of my four older siblings, and he was the first adoptee in the family. Jay had lived with the Stricklands as a foster child for most of the first five years of his life before our parents were able to make him a permanent and legal member of the family.

About a year after Jay had officially become a Strickland, our parents decided that he needed a sibling who looked more like him so that he would not feel like the “odd one” who stuck out in a family of Anglo-Americans. So, Jay was the reason that Rebecca and I were adopted from Korea into the Strickland family.

Jay was seven years old when I became his younger brother. He was ten or eleven by the time I could form any permanent memories. I would now like to share some of those memories of Jay with you.

In Awe

Jay, One of the first things I can remember knowing about you is that you were left handed. That made you unique in our family. You always had to have a seat at a left corner of the table so that you wouldn’t be bumping elbows with a right hander. You told me about a school teacher who tried to force you to use your off hand and how that didn’t go over very well with you. But you learned to use both hands and became nearly ambidextrous. You could beat me at ping pong holding the paddle in either hand.

You were so incredibly coordinated. You could walk on your hands almost as easily as you could walk on your feet. Front and back handsprings were no problem for you. At the dance studio downtown where many of us Strickland kids went for some combination of lessons in ballet, tap dancing, piano, or acrobatics, you reached the level of doing aerials. When you were on the track team in high school you were able to high jump your height.

When I was five or six you used to lift me up and try to get me to stand on your shoulders. I could sit on your shoulders. But getting to a standing position felt unsteady and I was scared of being that high off the ground. If the roles had been reversed and I was the older brother, you would have stood on my shoulders fearlessly. You could have been a circus performer.

At the public pool I watched you do hand stand dives off the ten meter platform. You could juggle and ride around on a unicycle, as well. One time I saw you climbing up a tree that had no branches to grab on to, in the same manner as Polynesians go up palm trees to fetch coconuts. I was in awe of your prodigious physical talents.

When you were about 14 Dad started sending you downtown to Hoffmeister’s Gym three times a week to work out. The transformation of your body in less than a year, from a skinny kid to one with a form bordering on that of a body builder, was astonishing. You would later show me the stretch marks on your thighs and around your shoulders and upper arms that were caused by your muscles growing so fast. That metamorphosis made a lasting impression on me and I always admired your tremendous physique.

Under Your Wing

Being nearly seven years older than me, you had permission to do many things that were completely off limits to me. One of my earliest memories is of the occasions when you would get the package of powdered Droste Cocoa out of the cupboard and make a cup for me and yourself. Just the two of us. While we waited for the water on the stove to get hot, you would carefully measure out the cocoa powder, sugar, and Carnation Evaporated Milk in that meticulous way you had of doing things. Drinking that specially prepared cocoa with you was like having a magical elixir.

Sometimes you would get out the reel to reel movie projector and open up the movie screen and show old 8 mm movies and cartoons from the collection stored in flat metal canisters. (Maybe because that always happened in the basement, or when no one else was home, it wasn’t something you were officially allowed to do.)

Sometimes, when everyone else was watching other programming on the big TV in the living room, we would watch shows and movies that boys liked more on the portable black and white Sony TV in another room. Just you and me.

Jay, you jump-started my sports fandom. The first time I ever watched the Super Bowl was together with you. You had to explain the arcane rules of the game about which I had many questions. Thanks to you, I learned how to throw a tight spiral, -something I was always proud of being able to do. I remember also watching track and field events and Acapulco cliff diving with you.

I learned about physical world concepts such as lateral movement, the centrifugal force, and torque from you. You showed me how to use various tools, and how to change a flat tire, a skill that has certainly come in handy from time to time.

Emulating You

Your physical prowess was not something I could easily emulate. But there was one thing I was determined to follow in your footsteps. As a pre-teen and young teen you earned money from delivering newspapers.

You would occasionally show your kid brother some of the things you had bought with the earnings from your paper route. To a five or six year old your room was like a cave filled with wonders. Among the fascinating things you had were your collections of HO gauge toy soldiers, quarter ounce bottles of Testors model paints, model rockets powered by C6-3 Engines, and the cans of spray paint you used to add the finishing touch to your model cars and rockets. The silver Franklin half dollars, Mercury dimes, Buffalo nickels, and Indian Head pennies you acquired from paper route customers were especially intriguing.

I desperately wanted a paper route, too, so I could buy neat stuff like you had. When Mom finally said I was old enough to get a paper route, it was you who took me down to the paper station on 42nd Street to introduce me to the district manager, “Bulldog Bailey.” Mr. Bailey seemed glad to meet me because I was your brother. I was soon fixed up with a delivery route.

Once I had my own stream of income, I set about obtaining some of the same things you had. I built plastic model cars and planes. I amassed a huge collection of Testors paints. Collecting coins became one of my main hobbies for several years.

When I was in high school I ran track and cross country as you had done. You told me a couple of times that you had once done a hundred push ups without stopping. So, for many years I did push ups every morning. And one day I also hit the 100 mark. You inspired me to use my off hand as much as possible. I’ve been operating the mouse for my computer with my left hand for many years now.

Fun Times Together

Out in the front yard we would play 2 on 2 football games with Rebecca and another kid from down the street. You would diagram plays on the palm of your hand with your index finger. ”Take five steps out then turn around and come back two steps, and I’ll throw you the ball.” That was the “button hook” play.

We all had some great afternoons tobogganing on Butler Hill. When we’d have one of those colossal wipe outs that happen on toboggans, you would add your dramatic flair, as we were all lying on the snow splayed about in every direction, that made it doubly hilarious.

You had a loud laugh that added comic relief to many situations. I wish I could hear that again.

In the backyard, where we had a basketball goal set up, we would sometimes shoot hoops together. You once narrated a play-by-play call of the action based on the players from the Shortridge High School team that nearly won the State Championship in 1968. “Greg Allen brings the ball up the court, he passes to Oscar Evans. Evans passes to Taylor, Taylor back to Evans, Evans shoots and scores!”

Before there were video games, you had a two lane race car track set up on a large table in the basement. The miniature cars had metal contacts on the underside that received power from the electric wires embedded in the track. You would build elaborate courses with overpasses, loops, and many turns. I cherish the hours of fun and excitement we had when you let me and other siblings race on your set up. I can still smell the scent of burning metal and machine oil as the miniature cars overheated.

Leader of the Parade

You were the first one in the family to land a role at Starlight Musicals, playing the French planter’s son in South Pacific. The run of Strickland kids appearing in numerous productions on the big stage at the summer theater with stars from Broadway and Hollywood would go on for nearly two decades. All but two of us eventually made it into at least one show. I was in four different shows with you.

Those days are some of the best memories that any of us have. When we went on long family trips, we would sing all of the songs from the many different musical productions we’d been in. Experiences at Starlight Musicals provided a launching pad for our oldest sister Cynthia’s long career as a theater actress. And it may have been an impetus for Rebecca’s career in show business as a TV and movie director.

Many years later my son and daughter got one of the biggest thrills of their childhood when they were also in South Pacific at a summer theater in Vermont, playing the legacy role that you pioneered four decades earlier.

You Were There for Me

Jay, you were there for me at several key moments in my life. When I was out of town for a chess tournament or a church youth group retreat, you were usually the one who substituted for me in delivering my newspapers.

In 1973 we both participated in a Marathon Walk that was a fund raiser for projects in less developed countries. We went to the Butler Bowl together early on a Saturday morning to join with the thousands of other marchers. Once the army of youth started out, you raced ahead, being the fast walker that you were. I still had a classmate friend with me, so you didn’t leave me completely abandoned. By jogging some miles along the way, you finished the 26 mile course in about five hours. It took me nine or ten hours to make it back to the Butler Bowl. I was thoroughly exhausted, and surprised to find you waiting for me. But I was very glad that you were there to take me home.

When I went on my very first date, which was the Prom near the end of my senior year of high school, you lent me your car so that I could take my date to the big dance. You even procured a bottle of wine for me so that I could do the full wine and dine routine.

You were the only one who came to my college graduation. You arrived in Carlinville the day before the ceremony, and I was able to introduce you to many of my friends and classmates during an evening of partying and bar hopping. I treasure the photographs you took of the event.

Before I went to Korea in 1982, you realized that I would be landing in a foreign country with very little money in my pockets, which could have made things quite difficult. So you offered me a loan of $700 (about $2,400 adjusted for inflation) to help me make it until I got my first paycheck. Then, while I was living in Korea, bills for repayment of my college loans started coming due. You made monthly payments on my behalf for five years before I was able to start paying you back. Without your stepping in, I would have defaulted on my student loans and my credit rating would have been in ruins.

After I came back from Korea, I settled in Vermont and eventually became a home owner on a plot of land that had a small barn. One summer you came over from Illinois to help me repair the barn’s roof. What I had hoped would be a three or four day project expanded to ten days of labor, as we uncovered more and more things in the structure that needed to be rebuilt. Your carpentry skills and physical strength were invaluable.

During your visit we did take a day off here and there to do other things. One day we drove up to Rutland, and on the way back stopped at a place called ‘Wicked Good Pizza.’ The name of the establishment itself was reminiscent of the way you used to say, “Wicked!”

On the 4th of July, –one of the two days in the calendar year that you regularly commemorated with your picture postcards, we did the burgers on the grill routine. You took charge of making sure that the ground beef was mixed with ingredients to your liking, and that the patties were sized and shaped to your meticulous standards. That night we went with the kids to the fireworks display at the town park. I believe the last time I ever went to see 4th of July fireworks was when you came to visit me in Vermont.

Jay, you shaped my life in so many different ways. I’m sure you must have touched the lives of all who have gathered here today in ways I can only imagine. I am eager to hear any memories of humor, inspiration, caring, and generosity that Jay brought to your lives.