THOMAS CONNORS DUGAS

       My only brother, Thomas Connors Dugas (Tommy), was born in 1967 in Loreauville, LA, our hometown. I was a junior in high school. He grew up in an estrogen war zone with six sisters and our mother. I sang "Little Robin Redbreast" to him as I rocked him to sleep at night. I left home two years later to attend college. After I graduated from college and married, I moved to Texas, then to Georgia, so I saw little of him as he grew up.

            He is a successful adult and an accomplished writer. His resume indicates that he is “above the fold.” He is brilliant and, I believe, has an eidetic memory. He escaped in books because reading was his manner of coping in our noisy household. I think he read our whole set of Britannica encyclopedias cover to cover. A conversation with him is usually one-sided. He can talk for hours about almost any topic. I am amazed by his repertoire; however, I can never get a word in.

            Our paternal grandfather hunted and fished all year long and was the source of Tommy’s hunting passion. Tommy cut his teeth on an arsenal which included a magazine fed .410 shotgun, a single shot shotgun in 20 ga., and a Winchester Model 61 Pump .22 rifle. He describes himself as a shot gunner. He is a member of the NRA, and despite, my reservations, has continued this practice.

            He was nurtured by our sister Cindy who took him under her wing. She was fifteen years older. I didn’t realize how close they were until I read Tommy’s memoirs of their relationship. She helped him to grow up and was the source of his passion for reading.

            He now lives in Virginia with his wife. We talk occasionally. If I could rewrite my life, I would wish I had not left home so soon. Perhaps being the eldest sibling was a misfortune.

            Happy Brother’s Week to you, Tommy. I love you.