My Big Brother

You know, I am looking at this website, a tribute to my brother’s love and efforts to make a difference in those he touched, and I am reflecting on memories that are so dear and personal. I am so touched that you keep his memory alive.

The memories and stories I believe he would want all to know, are the mischievous and joyful ones. The reflections that made him happy, for that is what he strived to be: happy.
There are unlimited stories of happiness and hilarious insanity, while growing up in the Sarnoff household. The experiences that molded and contributed to who he ended up being. A work of art.

Here is a tender one of mine:

I was a tomboy. I had no choice. I grew up in the shadows of two older brothers and if I wanted to be the annoying baby sister that I needed to be, I had to become just that. Les was a leader. It started quite young actually, because he was the one with all of the ideas.

Whether good or bad…he had them! He was in constant motion both physically and mentally. It was his blueprint. He wasn’t shunned by others…we all looked to him for the who, what, when, where, and he would figure out the “why” when we got caught.

He was our Einstein. He didn’t raise the bar…he never saw it. I thought he was brilliant.

Our family spent several years in Ann Arbor, Michigan. It was there that we spent our time as children walking through fields to school, climbing trees and being kids in a neighborhood filled with many. It was safe to be out until the streetlights came on, and then there was the mad dash to get home before you heard your parents call. I followed my brothers everywhere. This one story is engraved in my mind and I shared the memory of it with Les last year.

It was a summer day that I recall, and I was looking all over for he and Gary, as an annoying sister would do. I saw that Les and his buddies were playing ball in a churchyard, not far from our home. Oh my gosh, I ran as hard as I could to go home and get my mitt. The pink one that my dad had bought me, so that I too, could be part of their game. I was 6 years old, Gary 10, Les 13. I came running through a field and was so excited to play.

However, upon my arrival, all I heard were the protests from all of Les’s friends, and them yelling that I couldn’t play because I was a girl, too young and the “Come on Les…get her out of here” banter. I could not have felt more saddened. I ran towards home, crying so hard I couldn’t hear someone yelling for me to stop running. Les finally caught up to me and asked me to come back and he would let me play. I would not! No way, I was too upset and they were too mean. I hate boys!

So… as we walked back to the field, big brothers arm around my shoulder… he announced, as if he were George Steinbrenner… “She’s playing”!

I sat on the bench, as patiently as I could, with my pink mitt in hand, and waited my turn. Every once in a while, Les would look over at me, as if to wish I had left from boredom but at the same time deciding what to do with this situation, so everyone was happy. (Did he ever stop trying to please everyone?)

Final inning, I got to bat. I made contact with the ball! I ran my heart out towards first base and could hear him say, with a soft voice and oh so intentionally, “Let her run it” and unbelievable to me, I made it to first base! They weren’t even close to throwing me out I thought to myself, knowing full well he was scripting the event. I think I made it to second but irrelevant to the memory. I ended up in the outfield, centerfield for the final 3 outs. Les in the right field came over to tell me “You know they are going to hit it to you because they think you will drop it. Just let me catch it, I will be there”. Pow! I look up… running and squealing, “I got it I got it”, and there is Les in front of me catching the ball I thought was mine. Kicking the dirt in a 6 year olds’ disgust, I positioned myself for hit #2 and sure enough, the second ball grounds right to me and scooping it up, he was right there making sure his friends didn’t hate him for letting me play. Third ball a fly. I am screaming, “I have it, I have it Les!” I hear Les yelling this time from afar, “Keep your eyes on it Linnie, keep your eyes on it”! I heard the smack when it hit my pink leather mitt and when I opened my eyes, I saw it there. I couldn’t believe it! Les walked over to me and not one word, not one word! Just this incredible look of “How did that feel?” and “It’s a damn good thing you caught it!”, look. Gary rushed over in disbelief but the look on Les’s face, with no words exchanged… I will never forget it. He handed me my chance to proclaim my contribution to the sport of baseball with those that seeped testosterone. He made me feel “it”. It was a proud moment for both of us. He was always there for me. He was always right there! Never shared his ice cream but was always there.

We, as a family, never missed a performance he was in, when he acted in college. My parents couldn’t have been prouder. They would pack up on a Saturday and off to Moorhead, no matter how cold and insane the weather, we would go. I was in awe of his ability to creatively transform into character. He told Zach his favorite character to play was Captain Hook. Mine to watch was Fagin, from Oliver. He was this mischievous man that led kids astray, all while fostering this on the edge lifestyle. Actually, he played himself with makeup and costume.

He taught me that there are things in life that you just have to do, whether you want to or not. You just do it and your done. He taught me to scale everything on a 1-10 margin and take a moment to assess how that “thing” would have an effect on me, a week from that time, and place it in perspective. He despised conflict and argument, and was the most “peaceful wishing” soul, a sister could have. He was a true friend and an unconventional influence as an uncle…(which he felt was his job). Who best to fill those shoes?

I feel him laughing sometimes. I really do. I feel his energy making light of a situation I am in. I catch myself smiling at that moment and my self-inflicted stress miraculously vanishes. I am so grateful he had those special times to thank my mom and dad for being watchful over him and giving him just so much slack, for he would state he didn’t know where he would have ended up had they given up. Love hurts sometimes and hopefully we grow up and embrace the journey. He did. I loved him more than the moon loves the stars and told him often…not just when he was ill, but always. We always shared our good fortune of being related and embraced the relationship we had. So many lessons he gave me, I pray that he took some of mine.

He told me that when he dies he wants to come back as one of his dogs. What a grand life they all had and still do through the lens of Rita’s care.

Thank you for allowing me to share.
Lynne (little sister)

Did I mention the time he snuck his friends through the basement window to host a party while my parents were … or when he drove my dad’s car onto an almost frozen lake and blew the axels … or when we went to a junkyard and found an old ringer washer that he adapted as a planter on his front lawn or…