Ralph

     Twenty-six years ago this week, my nephew Rolf died in an accident on a mountain on the opposite side of the country. In his late 20’s he had a good career in the food industry. He was on his way up the ladder. Thinking back to that time, the rush to find tickets, the funeral, the sorrow, the re-acquainting with the family that was split by the width of a nation brought back memories of his father, Ralph, my brother. 

    The emotions are still there and are still felt over a quarter century later. They are part of a bundle of feelings and thoughts which make up some of the supports that hold families together. Births, vacations, weddings and sadly, also deaths combine into a strong root from which families grow. My brother is a common factor in many of the strands which make up my support structure.

    Ralph was born twenty years and a month earlier than me. When I was a child, he was already in the Navy, exploring the world. When I was in grade school he was in Viet-Nam, on multiple tours. He spent years on aircraft carriers and on the country’s last operating battleship. He spent his days behind his cameras. He photographed the men he worked with along with planes taking off and landing on short steel runways. He also spent time on shore, taking pictures of men armed with rifles who were trying their best to stay out of the enemy’s sights. He did this with his camera and camera bags to protect him, along with his wits!

Christmas-1959

    Growing up I rarely saw him and when I did, it was only for a few days before he was called away again. When I was in fourth grade, he would send letters home and I would take them with me to school. The teacher would read them to the class, letting us hear about what was going on in our world. He told us about Viet-Nam and the people along with what he did for work. He never mentioned the dangers of war in those letters, just the good things he saw in a foreign land.

    The only mention of him being in peril was on a tape he sent home. The hotel across the street from where he was staying was bombed while he was in his room. It gave me the realization that what he was doing and where he doing it were both very dangerous. Other than that, he left the newspapers and the nightly news tell us about the cruelty and ugliness of war.

    During one of his visits, I was talking to him in the front yard. Being a young kid, not even a teen yet, my ideas of war were based mostly on movies I had seen. I asked him, the fool that I was, if he had ever seen a man get killed.

    I remember it was a very serious answer he gave me. The exact words have long since disappeared but basically he told me that war was something I would never, ever want to see. He told me how awful it was without going into any details. He never did answer my question but during that talk he helped align my thinking and directed me a bit on my path through life. He handled it in a way that satisfied my curiosity and at the same time let me know that this is something he hoped I’d never know or experience. This was the first serious adult talk we had.

My muses, Dad and Ralph-1975

    He had picked up the love of photography from my father. Dad had been a photographer since he was a young man. He had pictures dating from the 1920’s. He and his pictures inspired both Ralph and me. Ralph became a professional and I became an avid hobbyist. It was probably the combination of Ralph and my Dad that dragged me so eagerly into the field.

    Ralph took pictures out of the doors of helicopters and planes and photographed ships as they sailed under the Golden Gate Bridge while perched high on top of one of the bridge piers. He took shots of places all over the world along with lots of photos of his kids growing up. I’m pretty sure he was happy being behind a camera!

    After his tours in Viet-Nam he and his wife moved to the suburbs of Washington DC. Their family was just starting to grow. I spent about a month with them one summer. I was bored, I didn’t think there was anything to do. I started collecting pull tabs from pop and beer cans for something to occupy me. Ralph sat me down one night and suggested that I take a bus into Washington and do some sightseeing.

    This opened a whole new world to me. I visited the FBI building and came home with empty shell casings from the machine guns they shot during tours. I visited the Smithsonian Museum and saw the Wright Brothers and Lindbergh’s planes along with the Hope Diamond. I climbed the stairs inside the Washington monument, a couple times!

    To be on my own, deciding what I wanted to do was something new to me. It was another thing he showed me that helped me along as I went through life. He showed me that I have the ability to do things on my own and also, that he had trust in me.

    During that visit he took me to work one day. He showed me how he took negatives that were taken from planes flying over Viet-Nam and how he made large prints out of them. The photographs were used by Commanders to help determine battle strategies. He was introducing me to the working world.

    We watched fireworks after listening to a concert while sitting on the lawn near the Jefferson Memorial for the 4^th of July. The family visited sites around the Capital and before I knew it, my parents were coming to pick me up.

    Our paths didn’t cross enough. He moved to the far side of the country, settling in first near San Francisco and later the Seattle area. For a while they lived outside of the country. My parents and I went to visit them after I graduated from High School. I got to know his children better, now much older. We visited the City by the Bay and rode the trolleys and climbed the hills. On one trip we crossed the Golden Gate Bridge and saw Redwood trees in Muir Woods. I saw many things I had never seen before. San Francisco is nothing like Pittsburgh, not by a long shot!

    Along with photography Ralph shared an interest in trains with me. Before I was even dreamed about, he and my father had built an HO train set up. They had constructed buildings to put on their layout, one of which resided in my attic for many years. Complete with ladders and stairs and coal chutes ready to fill the coal cars which ran underneath it, the coaling tower was painted to show the dirt and dust which resulted from the operation. Sitting atop a chest of drawers for several decades added even more dust on it!

    With a dim light hanging in the rafters, I would look at it and imagine how a structure like this would work. I’d spin it around and imagine climbing the ladders and stairs and wonder what would be behind the doors they led to. As a kid this model took me into another world. The location it was stored in helped, a dark attic, filled with cobwebs and mysterious boxes, unidentifiable because of the blankets covering them. It gave my imagination a bit of a kick, giving my visions of Hardy Boys and Edger Allen Poe stories a background. The imagination of children is a mighty thing which many of us lose as we grow older.

Mom and her boys-1985

    Ralph showed me a lot and most of it was without my even realizing it. I always looked forward to seeing him, he was my big brother! I adored him and looked up to him. He lived only one year into this century, that day seems as if it was only yesterday. I only wish we had been able to spend more time together.

(Taken by his daughter Erika)

    Webster’s Dictionary describes "Hero" as a man admired for his accomplishments and noble qualities. I guess that it just proves what I’ve always known;

He was my hero!