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The Death of Peter Pan…
Well, I can stop looking for Tiger Lilly because I fully realize now that I’m not Peter Pan. And I never was.
I know this because Peter Pan died on January 8th 2012. Or rather, my brother, John Christopher Steffen died on that day at the age of 49.
And the real shame of it was that John and I had fallen so out of touch – maybe 5 conversations over the past 20 or so years. Of course, there were reasons for this, as is nearly always the case…
A little background…
John and I were both adopted. So, there was no shared blood between us or my parents. Not that it should matter much, but I somehow can’t help thinking that it did.
Being three years older than was John, I remember that boy crying almost every night – loud, cranky, bodacious cries…
As a kid, maybe 11 years old, John had an absolute whip for an arm. When he would pitch in little league he could really bring it. He threw so damned hard.
And, a year or two later, he started taking up guitar and – Damn! – if he couldn’t Rock!
Multi-talented and incredibly smart (top 1% in Iowa Test Score results), it seemed that there wasn’t anything he couldn’t do…if only he set his mind to it.
In his mid-teens, however, John discovered certain escapist avenues and he and his close-knit circle of friends boozed and drugged it up with alarming regularity. However, John eventually lost his Lost Boys. Over the years, his friends each matured and moved on and away from such dangerous frivolities of youth. Sad to say, Peter Pan never did, leaving him as the only remaining inhabitant of his own Neverland.
(Baby Brother, 03/01/62 – 01/08/12)
Two of the last three or four times I saw John to the point where we actually had a conversation involved politics. Well, to a degree they did anyway.
The first was in 1986. I was working for Linda Chavez who was running for US Senate against Barbara Mikulski. We were sitting in my dad’s living room and just watched Linda give a TV interview. I turned to John and asked him what he thought. His response? “She’s really got it going on…I like her low cut blouse.”
The second time was on the night Bobby Ehrlich was elected Maryland Governor in 2002. John and some of his new posse showed up at the election night shindig. At one point, Baby Brother walked up to me and asked me to “hook him up” with some of the young women there. I just laughed and begged off from even trying.
The last time I saw John was about 3 years ago. A friend had asked that I go see him in court, where John was on trial for yet another fairly serious traffic violation. I went and there he was – long, shoulder length hair cascading down on the jacket of his snazzy pin stripe suit…which was capped off by the shockingly white tennis shoes he was wearing.
Anyway, as we were leaving the courthouse, John asked me for my cell number which I gave him. He never called…just like I knew he wouldn’t.
Last summer, John’s liver failed, and I really thought that was going to be it for him. However, John pulled through that ordeal and went home with his girlfriend. About a month ago, I received word that he was dying. Cancer had formed in his liver and had traveled to other organs in his body. Mercifully, the end came for him on January 8th.
I wrote this today for two reasons. One, I wanted some time to pass between his death and me putting things down in pixels because I didn’t want to be so wrapped up in emotion that I gave a false impression. The second reason? Tonight is the “Celebration of John’s Life” at a Reisterstown, MD, funeral home – a Celebration that’s been put together by a few of the former, original, Lost Boys.
The way I choose to remember John will hover around two basic things: Watching him throw that fastball of his past his compatriots in little league…and the way he used to marvel at new songs that he liked as a kid when they’d first appear on AM Radio – Badfinger’s “Day After Day” comes to mind.
And to John, himself, I have this to say: All is forgiven on my end– and I hope you’ve forgiven me as well. As much as you irritated the Hell out me, I love you.
Goodbye, Baby Brother – and, for Heaven’s sake, please try to stay out of trouble on the other side!
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