The Life and Times of Totally Tyler

The day after Brenen’s accident, the family sat down in the kitchen to plan the funeral. On the table was a large Ziploc bag containing my brother’s keys, cell phone and wallet. Stapled to the bag was the county coroner’s business card. I stared at the bag with eyes glazed over. This was really happening.

“I don’t believe that’s to ward off the evil eye,” said my crazy bug-eyed Great Aunt Pam as she tugged on my Kabbalah Red String. “I think that’s to let other men know you are gay and single.” Great Aunt Pam’s first love turned out to be gay. She was said to be heartbroken and she ended up marrying another man- my Great Uncle Larry.

In Connersville, Indiana, the clock has stopped in 1988. Mullets, mall bangs and mustaches are all the rage and flannel is considered appropriate evening attire. Smoking is still permitted in restaurants and the daily newspaper runs headlines like “Fire Hydrant Gets Repainted” and “Police Crack Down On Yard Sales”. No wonder Great Aunt Pam uses it to cover her mirrors.

“Brenen? Are you there?”

It was early in the morning and I was sitting on the hardwood floor of my Atlanta apartment looking up at the ceiling and talking to my dead brother. I don’t normally sit around talking to dead people and a part of me felt a little ridiculous but there was something I needed to know. A question I had to ask.