From Brian to Bobby

August 22, 2009 – 3:08pm
My dear friend,

Your dad called me this morning to tell me what happened last night. I am so sorry for him and your family, and you, of course. You were too young and had too many wonderful and thoughtful things to bring to the world yet.  It’s impossible for me to believe this. Right down to my core, you are bigger than life… 

To  me at this moment you are still here, so I just want to say things to you that I would say to you ALIVE, before I lose this feeling. 

Okay, I want to admit something that you’ll find funny. Nearly every time I wrote to you or responded to your emails, I would actually finish without thought or pretense by saying, “I love you Bobby, – B”. I’d read back the message (’cause they were all good reading, actually, right?), but when I got to the that ending, of course, I’d quick hit the back-space bar. It was such an adolescent reaction on my part. Didn’t want to come across too “touchy-feely”, I guess. 

I know you knew this, of course. But I can assure you that immediately after this, I’m going to comb through everything we said to each other, because I’ll feel so much better if I actually let it slip, just one time.

I’m sad that we’re not going to talk again, at least in this physical reality. If we can talk in some way, any way, you know I’m game! I’m not afraid of ghosts or nothin’, and you know that. Of course I don’t want you to challenge me on this fearlessness, unless it leads to a good laugh on your part! And maybe if I could make a request or two: please check into some of my theories that we’ve talked about, could you? 

I imagine you are where you are, an eternal present. You’re the sum of all that Bobby is and ever was: all aware, all joyful, all as sweet and happy as you ever were and we ever experienced. I’m also kind of imagining there’s some part of me there with you, and some part of all the special people in your life. Physical reality might make us think that this existence is the center of everything, but I am starting to imagine that it’s not just YOU that’s in some other state of existence, that I am there with you (and everyone you know, as well), and perhaps we feel the greatest empathy of all, at this moment,  for the “physical me” and the “physical Kurt” and everyone else who’s in such pain right now here where I’m writing from…

It really is “physical”… “pain” that is, isn’t it? I don’t think your ribs hurt now, obviously, but to go a little further, you’re not sad now, either, or anxious or tired. You’re not frustrated, and while it seemed you couldn’t have a mean thought in that sweet body or yours, if anything like that did exist, I am certain it will become dust in the purely physical world.

You know, I want to say that I am so glad that we started video chatting in the past couple weeks. It was so amazing to hear your voice and see you. It was great to pop in on each other every now and then and talk til we were too tired. Man, I am so glad I got to tell you my slap-stick, wacky “Japanese game show” version of my small bowel obstruction hospital saga. You laughed so hard. That was really fun. 

That was Monday maybe? Gosh, I can’t believe this, Bobby. I really can’t. 

Okay, One last little confession. Years ago, when you were living in Fishtown, I actually saw you at the grocery store. I knew it was you, because you were dressed in the same clothes as your Myspace photo at the time, and you had on an Urban Outfitters shirt (…which I figure only an Urban Outfitters employee would be caught dead in, right?) You were looking in the meat section. Pretty sure you were in front of the steak options, because I was on the other side of an island filled with hams.

When I looked over and realized it was you, I froze up. I wasn’t afraid of contact with you because of cepacia or anything. I was kinda clueless about that stuff at the time. I really just wanted to meet you under more special circumstances than the meat section at the Thriftway (my god, there’s puns flying around like crazy here). As the years went by and I was made aware of the dangers we faced by physical contact, I became scared that you’d think I thought you were “dirty” or something, and nothing could have been farther from the truth. 

I’ve imagined it a million times, how it probably should have gone… I say “Bobby?” And you turn around, as nice and open and honest as I’ve since known you to be. But maybe you’re thinking, WHO’S THIS???? And I say, “It’s me, Brian McTear!” Then we talk across the ham island for as long as we can before our groceries go bad. 

The ham island… It was right there! It was THE MEET SECTION! … What a cosmic joke! A perfect 5 or 6 foot buffer, plenty of space to say hi, but not give each other our germs. And of course we’d agree that neither you would buy a ham for several days, nor would I buy steak! I can’t believe it’s only becoming clear right now…

Well, none of this is to say that we didn’t have an amazing relationship, even if the most of it was in the last eight months of your life. It really was one of the most important things in my whole life, and I know you felt the same. Now, I hope it keeps going somewhere in some other plane. I trust it does. We’ll never talk again here, Bobby, but I really believe that freed up from the line of time-space, you and me are just fine. We’re ALL just fine.

I do love you, Bobby. Thank you so much for such a wonderful friendship.

B

From Bobby to Brian

Aug 4, 2009

Hey.

So a few things have happened over the past few days that have kind of really put my life into focus the past week.

Situation One:
The other night Luke (my little 9 year old brother) was in my room just hanging out watching SportsCenter, playing with his football and talking to me about various things going on in his life. I was doing my treatments and he suddenly stopped catching his football and said “Oh Bobby guess what?! I was reading up on Cystic Fibrosis at school and it said that most people with CF the disease goes away around 32 or 35! So, one day in the future you’re probably going to wake up and feel great and you wont have CF anymore!” Brian, I thought I was going to lose it right there. He obviously misread the life-expectancy for people with CF and misinterpreted the reading. I didn’t let him in on what he really read because he truly believes this and is so excited for that day that obviously I am not going to shatter any illusions he has.

Situation Two:
This past weekend I was supposed to go on a trip to Block Island with my friend. Early on in the week though I got a really high fever and decided it was best to stay behind and not physically push my body. It was a good decision, but it made me angry that this CF held me back from having a good time with my friends. As I was weighing the decision whether to go or not I looked at pictures I took from this trip to NYC I went on with the same friends and got so nostalgic. Suddenly my anger turned to fear and sadness that when it’s my time to go I can’t take my friends with me. Over this past year the value of my friendships have grown twice the size of the planet Mars. Without them I don’t know where I’d be or how I would deal with all of this shit. Have you ever experienced friendship like that? Where there are no questions asked, whatever I tell them, whatever decisions I make they support 100%? Not only that, but they push me to be the best I can be and to shoot for the stars no matter WHAT meds or condition I’m on or in.

I guess what I’m talking about is Death. And to tell you the absolute truth, it scares the shit out of me. I’ve looked over the cliff a few times and I don’t exactly remember or could make out what I saw, but I love THIS life. I really do take every moment for what it is and that stupid cliche rings so close to home it’s scary. What really sets me off and calms me down is Art. When I listen to a song, see a movie, see a painting, read a poem, a book, see Ryan Howard hit a homerun…it’s cathartic. I remember when I was 20 and playing music 5 nights out of the week, it was great. Most nights were just a pain and playing to people who didn’t care or we drove 200 miles just to collect a paycheck. But the nights where everything came together and we connected with each other, the audience, ourselves, that is truly something I hope everyone in this world gets to experience at least once in their life. I suppose I’ve found that outlet in other art forms now, but THAT is the reason I don’t want to die. I don’t want to stop connecting to people. I don’t want to be able to not have that feeling anymore.

Damn. This sounds like a really bad journal entry or something. But it’s been building up to this letter this whole week. I know everyone has their time, it’s just a matter of when. I just hope (and I’m probably repeating myself here) I leave something behind that makes people love this life more than if they had not experienced it.

AHHH. I feel better already!

talk to you soon.
b.

From Brian to Bobby

Aug 4, 2009

I’ve experienced similar nostalgia for life before. The end of 2007 into the beginning of 2008 I started becoming really sick with a new infection, Mycobacteria Kansasis. It came on slowly but for some reason we had to rule out other reasons for getting sick and therefore I couldn’t be treated for it for a while. So as it hit harder and harder, I was just getting more and more sad, feeling like “Here we go! This is IT, I guess…”

This one night, it was a Sunday night, because Amy and I were watching the Million Dollar Movie (one of our favorite things to do together, because some of them are SOOOOOO Bad…). This time it was the movie Philadelphia. I don’t know why but as his (Tom Hanks’ character) situation deteriorated, I began to identify more and more with him. It seemed like he was such a great guy (like me, right?), and he was unfairly made to suffer, yet he had so much purpose because of his situation. He was really loved by his circle of friends who accepted him and supported him. It all just seemed so “ME” although, take away AIDS and put in CF. And, again, I was feeling like his rapid deterioration was a lot like what I was experiencing.

At a commercial, I decided to try for a run around my block. it was a warm night for the winter, it was a full moon and it was absolutely clear as a bell, only a few beautifully whispy clouds perfectly positioned around the bright moon. I couldn’t run very far at all. It quickly changed to a walk, and my mind was racing with thoughts of Amy, my friends, my family, singing my songs on stage, helping people make records. I was thinking about all the friends I’ve made MAKING records… all of my BEST friends. I was thinking about old band mates, touring with my friends.

My nostalgia meter was off the scale, and I was feeling so incredibly sad. I couldn’t help but think of dying and what a cryin’ shame the whole thing is….for me and for everyone!

All I can really conclude from this, Bobby, is that we are confronted with our mortality in ways that make our capacity for love and friendship even greater than the average person. And at the same time, this heightened appreciation for life, beauty, love and friendship is itself a blessing. I could CRY at the end of the movie Philadelphia, which doesn’t sound like that much of a stretch, but I am sure I don’t have a lot of 30-something friends who actually cried or would cry during the Million Dollar Movie. It had meaning. I had understanding. Some people have to wait 60 or 70 years to have such emotion. Some people never have it at all.

Dying scares us all. I think it’s the sole reason we can all sympathize with the sick, because we all know sickness can lead to death and death is scary as shit.

This of course is where I revert back to my thoughts on life, death and the concept of time. Death, by my crazy new-age definitions, is only a detail of time, which itself only exists in the physical universe. If we can think of ourselves having non-physical traits and non-physical awareness, then death is simply like getting to the end of a video game. The little character dances, the video streamers all come down the screen like a waterfall, we smile and get up off the couch. Off the time-line we just ARE. I feel like there’s no beginning and no end, we are this incredible package of energy, ideas and awareness and we pick up lives in the physical universe with the intrigue and enthusiasm of someone playing video games.

Dead or alive in this universe, we’re still playing the game from somewhere off the physical system. Wherever or whatever that is, if it’s a place (which it probably isn’t, but let’s just picture it like that for now) then whoever is playing the Bobby Wolter game and whoever is playing the Brian McTear game,… Those dudes are friends eternally without time no matter what!

B

From Brian to Bobby

July 29, 2009

You know, I’ve been thinking about how healthy it is for us to be planning out this long term, Brian and Bobby film project together.

A few years ago, after having a couple setbacks (the small bowel obstruction and then later the mycobacteria infection), I unwittingly lost my vision for the future. For a person who has a lot of plans, a lot of projects, after 4 or 5 months of getting sicker and sicker, I was thinking about things two years, three years into the future ….but not much more. I think I was starting to discount that I had that much time left in me! (The mycobacteria infection went long and really hit me hard and made my days pretty shittybefore we started treating it.)

Then, a couple of weeks into treatment for the infection, I was in to see Dr. Hadjiliadis (MY Dr. H!), and I don’t even remember what we were talking about, but he said something to the effect of “talk to me about that in 10
or 15 years!” The smile on my face might have weakened a little, and I think I said something like “well, 10 years is a long time…I don’t know that I’ll be here in 10 years…”

What happened next had a profound effect on me, my outlook, and ultimately my vision for the future. His response was very sincere, and even “warm”, though not patronizing in any way. He said, “Oh… I fully expect you to be here a lot longer than THAT!” It was strange, the power his words had for me. I felt a huge weight lifted. Next thing I knew, I am driving home…I was doing things like laughing out loud….I was talking to myself (interview style… I do that sometimes) about my plans for when I’m older. It opened up my entire outlook. It instantly rejuvenated my vision for the future. It said to me that I could start picturing it again.

Not long after that, I began writing my business plan for what would become Weathervane Music (the music nonprofit I’d been dreaming about with my friend Bill for YEARS), and well, WV has really helped “anchor” my vision for the future. I think it makes me healthier, in a little way.

I think having a project that stretches several years into the future effects our vision. We see our ideas alive and flourishing, and therefore we see OURSELVES alive and flourishing. This is very important. Like I said, we
never know when our time is up, but at the very least it doesn’t HELP our longevity to think it’s right around the bend.

So I am really happy that we can plan this project together. I think it improves our outlook and that can only be positive.
–
How you feeling this morning? We good for video chat with Devin tonight? If we need to reschedule, no problem!

B

From Bobby to Brian

July, 29th 2009

Man that is a great story. I can totally picture what you’re talking about and the story you told!
I agree, it’s like an extra motive to keep going and putting one foot in front of the other no matter what. That’s how I try to live…to just KEEP GOING. To plow through whatever life throws my way. Kind of like a ninja with samuri swords just screaming at the top of my lungs making chop-suey of anything that gets in my way.
I think this is really going to be great too. I can just feel it. Can’t wait to see how working with Devin turns out and what we come up with.

I’m at a dealership getting my car inspected. There’s this guy sitting about ten feet away from me. I keep hocking loogies discreetly into my “spit bottle”. I wonder what he thinks? If anything, at least he has a story. I’m at the point where in situations like this I don’t care anymore. Even though I know how disgusting it is.
See u guys tonight!
b.