“Like I could forget?” He had the same reaction to that question that I’d had when Dad had asked me recently. He stopped. We were in front of their old house. “Yeah, you know Steve Colbert?” I asked him, with, this time, the emphasis on the last syllable and pronounced “bare.” “That’s little Stevie I remember toddling down that driveway.”
I remember the scene in part because Mrs. Colbert was outside watching him, while usually she was inside while her older kids played outside; it was a neighborhood of large families where you could step out your door and find a playmate after dinner on any summer evening, with a pick-up game of four-square or softball usually going on at the corner.
I remember her smiling, watching her littlest toddle cheerfully, determinedly, but physically uncertainly, the way they do at that age, and my feeling of he’s so cute! combined with, wait, wait, my pesty little brother is that age, so why don’t I think he’s all that cute? It was a moment of revelation to me. Maybe Bryan was cute after all. I felt I needed to go notice that he was.
“THAT’S Steve COLBERT?!” Bryan exclaimed, and then, “So *that’s* why Dad sent me that article on Steve Colbert. It made no sense to me.” We started reminiscing about back in the day, and he was just shaking his head marvelling, “He was my best friend when I was little.” And then, “How long ago did they move away?”
“It’s been 40 years; I don’t remember.” Or maybe 35 or so, but, whatever, it’s been awhile. Lulu, if you read this, I bet my sister Carolyn would love to hear from you.
