The task of being executor of my father’s will fell to my sister Margaret who lived in Oak Ridge, Tennessee not far from Dad’s home. She looked after him in his last years. He suffered diabetes and as it turned out so did both my brother Jim and my sister. Dad was the sole survivor of his second wife’s family. They left their estate to Dad. His will left all of his belongings to his three children.

“Have you found out where Jim is?” I asked Margaret as we were clearing the stuff out of Dad’s house.

“No, not yet,” Margaret said, “I guess we’ll just have to wait. The banks will find him.”

It had been about forty years since there had been any contact with Jim. It seemed that no one knew why he had stopped all communication with the family. I know this hurt Dad very much. I don’t know, but I suspect it had something to do with a disagreement between Dad and Jim about money.

Jim was born into the family when I was twelve years old. I don’t believe that I was as thrilled with him as was the rest of the family. I’d wanted a brother but one much nearer my own age. As he grew from a mere baby to a toddler his blond hair also grew. He grew the most beautiful curly locks ever seen around our town. Mom wouldn’t think of trimming them to make him look like a boy. Under duress, however, she relented to allow a haircut before he went off to school. A few weeks later I left home for college to see him only occasionally on my visits home

Jim came to Lima to visit me twice before his extended silence began. Soon after his first visit he, at age fifteen, married a young girl from Northern Kentucky, across the state from his home. They moved to California soon after that and started a family. They had two little girls, and when they were about two and four Jim brought his little family to visit my family. We had a very amiable time during their visit. We expected to see them again in the future. But it never happened. Dad heard from Jim’s wife, Peggy once in a while but many times she didn’t know where Jim was. His life was certainly a mystery to us for years to come.

As Margaret predicted the bankers found Jim so that he could get his share of the estate. Margaret and husband Ray visited him and his new wife, Dorothy. Jim and Dorothy later traveled east looking for a retirement home. Margaret had them and my Dorothy and me all meet at her house. It was a great reunion. Both Jim and I had wives named Dorothy Jessee. So to prevent much confusion Jim’s became Dorothy-1 and mine Dorothy-2, according to seniority as a Jessee. We had a short and friendly visit for a little more than a day, mostly in getting acquainted. We agreed to make plans to get together for a week next summer. We didn’t learn much about why Jim disappeared for so long, but maybe we would next time.

Ray decided to drive his SUV to Flagstaff, Arizona where I’d reserved a week at a resort. Dorothy-2 and I met them at their house and we traveled together with them. Jim and Dorothy-1 came from California and met us at the resort for a week of relaxation and sightseeing.

“This looks like a really nice place to hang out for a week,” everybody agreed, after a warm greeting when we had all arrived.

“Looks like we have an attic. Who wants to sleep up there?” I asked.

“’We’ll volunteer,” said Dorothy-1, and that was a settled matter.

“We’ll need to make a trip to a grocery store,” Dorothy-2 observed, and so we made preparations to stay a while.

A day or so later we had visitors from Salt Lake City. Jim’s son Mike and his wife and daughter showed up for a visit, and were in and out for about three days. I had never met Mike or his family. Mike was Jim’s youngest. At any rate they were a welcome addition to our little family.

We spent one day at the Grand Canyon. We all wandered around like tourists while Ray rode a mule down the trail into the canyon. He survived the trip without problems.

Another day we went to a place where the trail was somewhat rough and was strewn with pieces of lava. Along the trail Jim stumbled and fell, skinning his leg. His feet were numb because of his diabetes and he hadn’t noticed the rough spot under his foot. Dorothy-1 was worried about the skinned spot on his leg. The rest of that day was spent tending his wound, which wasn’t as serious as Dorothy-1 had feared. The week passed as if we were a normal family. We were all in favor of doing it again.

Jim and Dorothy-1 found their retirement place and moved to Fredericksburg, Texas. Unfortunately I never saw Jim again. Their retirement didn’t last long. They had just got settled in well when, as many diabetics, Jim died of a massive heart attack.

I’m truly sorry that my reacquaintance with our brother was so short-lived but I’m forever grateful to Margaret and the bankers for finding him.