This column has pondered in my brain for months. Quite literally for the past several months I have struggled with this topic and how to make it relatable to the masses.
For some, I’m sure this seems odd, as we quickly approach the one-year mark since I’ve actually sat behind my desk in the newsroom. There’s a funny thing about being a writer, your brain doesn’t shut off. So, as life continues to happen around me, I continue to see stories I hope get written and columns (aka my random thoughts) pop into my head; I can’t help but want to share.
Over the course of this past year, as I’ve sat in some isolation from my previous life, surrounded by those close to me and breaking out whenever possible (insert wink here), I’ve watched announcements of people passing.
The one which triggered the thoughts for this piece came at the start of April. I, along with many, knew him as Brownie. In early April of this year, Alan Brown, commonly known around town and perhaps the world as “Brownie,” passed away.
Now, if I were a groundbreaking investigative reporter, this is where due diligence would come in and I’d share proper background and accomplishments of this well-known Aussie Cowboy.
This, however, is a column, which is the writer’s perspective and well there’s a bigger purpose to this piece than to serve as a eulogy for quite honestly a man whose personality was bigger than my simple words.
In truth, I don’t know a whole lot about Brownie. His life, however, and death brought me a lesson I will now cherish for the remainder of my lifetime.
I came to meet Brownie at the H-B Saloon. While I don’t remember the day or the cause, as someone who goes there regularly our paths crossed while bellied up to the bar. Brownie was a story teller. Journalists love story tellers, so we would exchange chatter frequently. Actually, he would chatter and I would listen, often times unsure of what I was hearing as he had a bit of an accent and, well, bars can be loud and cocktails don’t help.
When at the bar, I have been known to play “DJ” on occasion. As late afternoon turned to early evening, it’s fun to transition from the rodeo on the TV’s to a little music.
Without fail, Brownie would always come over, share an Angus Young story – his childhood friend – and I would cue some AC/DC. One night we even went into some Men at Work on the play list, sharing a good chuckle among a group of us as a sort of Aussie tribute.
Good times. Good stories. Great laughs.
I hope you’re all still with me, because here’s where the lesson comes in.
What I learned from the life and the passion of Brownie, was just how much I love that cast of characters. The people at the bar that I see enough to care about, who hold a piece of memory in my heart and head and whom consistently welcome you with open arms.
This, however, isn’t exclusive to those who drink and go to bars, you might find it at church, your gym or even a play group you attend with a young one.
The point of this is (for me), the bar family is not dissimilar to your real family. The hit television show “Cheers” did a great job depicting this.
It’s composed of a cast of characters; some everyone is also happy to see. They walk in and everyone immediately lights up because they know the fun is coming. Yet there is also the grumpy uncle, the looney, busy body aunt, the know it all, the comedian and yes, the one family member everyone tries to avoid but eventually get cornered by.
The beauty of the bar family, which my hiatus has taught me, is just like family, you may not see them as often as you’d like but you know when you do, you’ll be greeted with love and open arms. That’s special stuff.
Brownie was indeed a solid piece of the family fabric. His passing left a void which will never be filled. Oh but the stories, the stories and legacy of Alan Brown will long live on and for that, as well as this lesson, I am eternally grateful.
Often times when the bar was full with many regulars, Brownie would look around and say, “How lucky are we to know all these people?” Lucky indeed, dear friend. Cheers!
Teresa Hammond is a staff reporter for The Oakdale Leader, The Riverbank News and The Escalon Times. She may be reached at thammond@oakdaleleader.com or by calling 209-847-3021.
