Little Reminders to Enjoy Life (spoken at Sky's Memorial Service in Topanga on 7-22-07)

I’m a writer and words usually flow easily. But I had a difficult time writing this, as you can imagine. When I finally got something down on paper, it was trite, so rehearsed sounding—and I could just imagine my baby brother Sky kicking me under the table reminding me to be real.

In fact, one of the biggest gifts Sky gave me and my family was the gift of his spontaneity and constant, yet sweet, reminders to be less uptight. I can hear him now with his familiar refrain of “Oh, Carolyn.” He’d say it whenever I was being too conventional, too concerned, too programmed. Sky and my brother Nick even went so far as to script out loud a madcap sitcom starring four siblings. And whenever sister Carolyn got too school-marmish, the other three siblings would chorus, “Oh, Carolyn.”

Sky’s gift of the unconventional and spontaneous shined in his role as the beloved Uncle Sky, a side of him many of you probably didn’t know about. He could play with the kids for hours, slyly encouraging all sorts of bad and crazy behavior. (And I’m sure Crystal will never forget that hysterical car ride to the Los Angeles Museum of Natural History back in April.)

There was the pirate birthday party we had for my son Oliver who was turning 5—Sky was maybe in his second year at Berkeley. Sky and I went to a costume shop a few days beforehand and rented an awesome pirate getup. I had—in my conventional manner—envisioned a dapper kind of pirate captain. But Sky had his heart set on being a scurvy pirate, so . . . It’s the day of the party and we’ve got hoards of little boys running around the house wearing eye patches—and then Sky bursts in yelling in a fearsome voice, “Who stole my treasure?” Several kids screamed and ran for cover, others cowered and in shaky voices told Sky that they had nothing to do with it. All were frightened—except for Oliver who kept circling around this pirate, with this look on his face that said, “Dude, I know you but I’m not sure how.” Sky did such a great job in character that even his nephew couldn’t figure it out. Scaring kids at a party isn’t too PC, in Berkeley of all places—but it was Sky. And it was hilarious.

Sky was the uncle who bravely came to his nephew’s school for Grandparents and Special Friends Day four years ago, and cheerily and good-naturedly participated in all the day’s activities, side by side with all the old grandmas and grandpas. But he found his place, hooking up with an old Berkeley couple, and together they wrote a little ditty about world peace and sang it in front of the class.

Sky was the uncle who could come up with just the right gift—even if it tweaked this staid sister a bit. A first subscription to Rolling Stone magazine for the preteen Oliver, along with some Axe roll-on deodorant for good measure. I can recall the conversation now: “Sky, come on, Axe? Have you seen the disgusting sexist commercials for that product? How could you get that for my kid?” “Oh, Carolyn.”

And then there was the holiday gift that keeps on giving to my rambunctious younger son, Henry. Sometime in December a couple of years back we started to receive these large-format construction industry trade magazines—one was called Equipment Today—all addressed to Henry Smith, president Oakland demolition services. It didn’t take long to figure out who signed Henry up to receive the premier free rag for the heavy equipment industry. Credit card offers then followed, much to Henry’s delight for stashing in his wallet. Sky might have been short on cash that year, but he found a million-dollar way to perfectly seize on his nephew Henry’s penchant for big trucks and construction and, well, just breaking things.

And then there were the endless sword fights between Sky and his nephews, careening through the house and out into the night on the sidewalk. Oh my god, those got out of hand—just crazy and like everything you could want as a kid. And then Uncle Sky showing up on the doorstep on Christmas morning and being the only adult with enough energy (and compassion) left to help put together a new and complicated Lego set.

My baby brother Sky was just an amazing combination of childlike fun and sweetness and spontaneity. And when I find myself inclined to be conventional or uptight as the days and years go by, I hope I’ll continue to hear Sky’s voice saying, “Oh, Carolyn,” spurring me and my family on to enjoy life and have fun. I miss him so much.