Othello Hamilton, Jr.
By Vernon Hamilton
First of all, I would like to honor my father. His love of his oldest son sustained Othello for all 56 years of his life. Everyone here knows how true this is.
Othello was my big brother. For all of my youth, I wanted to be just like him. I wanted to be as smart as he was, as athletic as he was, as handsome as he was, and as popular and loved as he was. In later years, I prayed that his life could be like my life. That he could have a family and children,… a home,… a job.
We talked about these things all the time. Why, with our shared biology and history, was his life thrown off track, while mine followed a more ordinary path? He discussed this with me, not as a complaint or a lament, but as an intellectual pursuit. Even as we learned more about genetics and Schizophrenia, there remained for both of us amazement at the arbitrariness of life. Life is not logical. As Jimmy Carter said: “Life is not fair”.
I really expected him to come back to being the person he used to be – to become the man he should have become.
For that reason, his passing not only hurt me, it surprised and mystified me. For all the pain that had been in his life, and in spite of what I knew about his illness, I guess I really thought that he would come driving up to my house one day and say:
“Man! You won’t believe what I’ve experienced. This is where I’ve been. This is what I learned. Let me tell you all about how this works.”
The reason I believed that that would happen is that I had been conditioned for the first 20 years of my life. He went before me, he learned, and he shared his knowledge with me. He led me to value reading, fishing, sports, friendships, conditioning and discipline, and other healthful things.
I don’t mean to make him sound like a saint. He was also my model and introduction into drinking, smoking, and a kind of wild independence that we had at that time. He really loved women, and they loved him back.
He believed in himself, and he encouraged ambition and a respect for education. He interpreted our family. He was very interested in family. Othello believed that knowing where you came from was a critical part of knowing who you are. He spent long hours with my aunts and my father and my grandfather seeking self-knowledge.
He kept alive the memory of our mother.
So I’ve thought about this in the last few weeks. If he wasn’t going to tell me directly what he had learned, then it would be up to me, to all of us really, to interpret the lessons of his life.
I’ve come up with 5 lessons so far:
1. The fabric of a life is very fragile – I mean, whenever I talked with Othello, his strongest, best, most reasonable self was always there. It coexisted with the self of unrealistic plans, the self of defensiveness, and the frozen self that could no longer go forward with a commitment to the future. It seems that we are only in control by, say, a margin of 51% to 49%. None of us are all that far from reversing those percentages to where we are not in control of our selves and our lives.
2. There is a corrosive effect of racism on the souls and energies of black people. It’s pretty clear that the poorest people and the people with the least education and opportunity catch hell, but there is another, more subtle kind of drain on the best and brightest black people. Everyone has self-doubt, and it is a tremendous burden to have to prove oneself in every encounter, over and over, every day.
(By the way, Othello and I often discussed these issues. He tended to discount any effects of race on his life. But it is clear that he was quite affected [and sometimes confused] by this form of pressure and doubt, and by the whole issue of race.)
3. Material possessions have almost nothing to do with happiness. Othello learned early on to make do with very little. Some people measure quality of life around money and comforts. He knew that they didn’t mean much, and certainly don’t bring happiness. He struggled to cope in the world, but he didn’t lose his sincerity, and kindness, and sense of fairness. He never complained about what he didn’t have. When I asked him what he needed, his answer would usually be socks, shaving cream, fruit or some other useful and inexpensive item.
4. Family and friends help to define our past and our present.
There is an elusive balance here that people must achieve to move forward. It has to do with holding on and letting go. I think, if Othello was able to come out of his experience and tell me about it, he would have said that you can only be defined by your roots to a point. Beyond that you must seek your own definition of yourself. I think he had a lot of trouble with this.
Othello had so much potential to do almost anything. More than anything else, I mourn the man he was not able to become.
The 5th lesson would be “Don’t smoke”. This may sound trivial, but Othello ultimately died of emphysema. Some families may have immunity, but cancer and lung disease are a plague on this family. We owe it to ourselves, and especially to our children, to protect our health and theirs.
These are the messages that I got from his life. I didn’t understand everything he went through, and didn’t know all of his feelings about them. But I know that I never stopped loving him, and I never will.
Just one last thing. After Othello passed away, my father and I got to see him in the funeral parlor. As a cremation had been arranged, there was no special preparation done – no makeup, no special suit. Just Othello on a table with a blanket pulled up to his shoulders. He looked wonderful. His face was free of pain. He looked 20 years younger than when we had last seen him alive only days before.
He is so at peace.
By Vernon Hamilton
First of all, I would like to honor my father. His love of his oldest son sustained Othello for all 56 years of his life. Everyone here knows how true this is.
Othello was my big brother. For all of my youth, I wanted to be just like him. I wanted to be as smart as he was, as athletic as he was, as handsome as he was, and as popular and loved as he was. In later years, I prayed that his life could be like my life. That he could have a family and children,… a home,… a job.
We talked about these things all the time. Why, with our shared biology and history, was his life thrown off track, while mine followed a more ordinary path? He discussed this with me, not as a complaint or a lament, but as an intellectual pursuit. Even as we learned more about genetics and Schizophrenia, there remained for both of us amazement at the arbitrariness of life. Life is not logical. As Jimmy Carter said: “Life is not fair”.
I really expected him to come back to being the person he used to be – to become the man he should have become.
For that reason, his passing not only hurt me, it surprised and mystified me. For all the pain that had been in his life, and in spite of what I knew about his illness, I guess I really thought that he would come driving up to my house one day and say:
“Man! You won’t believe what I’ve experienced. This is where I’ve been. This is what I learned. Let me tell you all about how this works.”
The reason I believed that that would happen is that I had been conditioned for the first 20 years of my life. He went before me, he learned, and he shared his knowledge with me. He led me to value reading, fishing, sports, friendships, conditioning and discipline, and other healthful things.
I don’t mean to make him sound like a saint. He was also my model and introduction into drinking, smoking, and a kind of wild independence that we had at that time. He really loved women, and they loved him back.
He believed in himself, and he encouraged ambition and a respect for education. He interpreted our family. He was very interested in family. Othello believed that knowing where you came from was a critical part of knowing who you are. He spent long hours with my aunts and my father and my grandfather seeking self-knowledge.
He kept alive the memory of our mother.
So I’ve thought about this in the last few weeks. If he wasn’t going to tell me directly what he had learned, then it would be up to me, to all of us really, to interpret the lessons of his life.
I’ve come up with 5 lessons so far:
1. The fabric of a life is very fragile – I mean, whenever I talked with Othello, his strongest, best, most reasonable self was always there. It coexisted with the self of unrealistic plans, the self of defensiveness, and the frozen self that could no longer go forward with a commitment to the future. It seems that we are only in control by, say, a margin of 51% to 49%. None of us are all that far from reversing those percentages to where we are not in control of our selves and our lives.
2. There is a corrosive effect of racism on the souls and energies of black people. It’s pretty clear that the poorest people and the people with the least education and opportunity catch hell, but there is another, more subtle kind of drain on the best and brightest black people. Everyone has self-doubt, and it is a tremendous burden to have to prove oneself in every encounter, over and over, every day.
(By the way, Othello and I often discussed these issues. He tended to discount any effects of race on his life. But it is clear that he was quite affected [and sometimes confused] by this form of pressure and doubt, and by the whole issue of race.)
3. Material possessions have almost nothing to do with happiness. Othello learned early on to make do with very little. Some people measure quality of life around money and comforts. He knew that they didn’t mean much, and certainly don’t bring happiness. He struggled to cope in the world, but he didn’t lose his sincerity, and kindness, and sense of fairness. He never complained about what he didn’t have. When I asked him what he needed, his answer would usually be socks, shaving cream, fruit or some other useful and inexpensive item.
4. Family and friends help to define our past and our present.
There is an elusive balance here that people must achieve to move forward. It has to do with holding on and letting go. I think, if Othello was able to come out of his experience and tell me about it, he would have said that you can only be defined by your roots to a point. Beyond that you must seek your own definition of yourself. I think he had a lot of trouble with this.
Othello had so much potential to do almost anything. More than anything else, I mourn the man he was not able to become.
The 5th lesson would be “Don’t smoke”. This may sound trivial, but Othello ultimately died of emphysema. Some families may have immunity, but cancer and lung disease are a plague on this family. We owe it to ourselves, and especially to our children, to protect our health and theirs.
These are the messages that I got from his life. I didn’t understand everything he went through, and didn’t know all of his feelings about them. But I know that I never stopped loving him, and I never will.
Just one last thing. After Othello passed away, my father and I got to see him in the funeral parlor. As a cremation had been arranged, there was no special preparation done – no makeup, no special suit. Just Othello on a table with a blanket pulled up to his shoulders. He looked wonderful. His face was free of pain. He looked 20 years younger than when we had last seen him alive only days before.
He is so at peace.