The Tire Swing
Jonathan Martin Banks, son of Melinda and Joseph – a.k.a. Jon, also known as Unka Jon, a.k.a. Shooter, a.k.a. cousin, a.k.a. was born October first, 1974… Here… In Columbus, Ohio.
I do not have enough words to describe my brother Jon. In the past few weeks, I have heard and read many words from those of you who are gathered here with us today. Friend, boss, confidant, comforter, culinary artist, miscreant, manager, rebel, leader, lover, I come not to bury Jon, but to praise him for he was a man of many layers.
There was a large tire swing in our back yard near a seasonal stream that cut through the property. The tire was attached at three points so you could lay down on the tire swing and hold onto two of the three ropes. My brothers and I would take turns while one of us sat on the swing and the other one or two of us would wind the swing up, turning it round and round, and the swing would raise higher and higher until only the tips of our fingers could touch the bottom of the swing and we would have to jump up to spin the tire and tighten the rope just a little more. Then the swing would start to unwind. Slowly at first, then faster, and faster it would spin while the brother on the tire held on as hard as he could as the world spun around them and the spinners would shout encouragement and laughter from 360 degrees.
One day, Jon and I were taking turns on the swing, and I wound the swing up as tight as I could get it, and let it go. Only this time… As the tire sped round and round… quickly reaching maximum velocity, I watched Jon go flying out the side of the swing, soaring like a Frisbee for about 20 to 30 feet and landing on his back on the rocks by the stream. I was terrified… and I ran over to where he landed. He was already up again. He didn’t cry and he wasn’t mad; he just said “I don’t want to do that anymore,” brushed himself off, and walked up to the house.
My brother had many strengths that I admire. Most importantly, Jons’ life had depth.
The poet, Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “It’s not the length of life, but rather the depth of life that matters” nowhere in the world, I think, is this idea clearer than amongst those of us that mourn today.
In a world where people often live to ages of over 100, we are always startled to see youthfulness taken in its prime. It seems so unfair for my brother to be taken at such an early age. But if we consider the life of my brother from Emerson’s point of view, we see that he lived a full life in the time he was here.
Jon had already learned to appreciate the important things in life: family, friends, good times, and the sense of accomplishment that comes from hard work. Jon has climbed mountains and looked out towards the curve of the earth and Jon has plumbed the depths of the ocean, scuba diving in the Caribbean with Jamie. All the while doing what he loved, evolving his career in the culinary arts.
Although saddened by our own loss, we must still recognize and celebrate this maturity — for I have seen men and women that live well into their later years who have never achieved half of Jons’ understanding, or a fraction of Jons’ accomplishments, people who would be terrified to even try.
Depth of life is not only measured by how much we appreciate the important things, but also by how much we, in turn, are appreciated. And again, we find the meaning of this idea among ourselves and our feelings. We are here because we cared. We are here because our connection with Jon was a deep connection based on friendship, love, trust, and understanding. And that can only happen with a treasured human spirit, with a spirit like Jon.
Jon may have been my little brother, but from the friends I have been speaking to and the hundreds of posts on his Face book account, he was a big brother to many. Here are just some phrases that I have been hearing.
- “He was an amazing person and he touched my life in a very special way. There are not enough words that can do that man justice.”
- “I can’t ever remember you without a smile on your face and that’s how I want to forever remember you.
- “You changed our lives in ways you could never imagine. I LOVE YOU BIG MOUTH BANKS.”
- “I love you Jon because you have a beautiful heart, are dashingly handsome, and always make me feel safe and protected.”
- “He was a mentor to many. I wish my boss had taken me to see Metallica.”
Jon was the best man at many people’s weddings – Mine, my brother Joe’s, his friends, Brian and Sheila Clark’s.
So instead of mourning our current loss, let us raise up our hearts for having had the opportunity of knowing someone like Jon if only for a short time.
With Jon and I, it was always – “see you later,” never good-bye. I can’t remember the last time either of us even used the phrase good-bye. I don’t want to say good-bye to him. I don’t want to say good-bye to his spirit, and his smile, and the laughter that flowed through him and from him. I won’t do it. I will say I love you, brother.
I’ll see you later.