Boys To Men

My friend Brooks likes to go to concerts. He’s always trying to get the rest of us to go with him to some jam band festival, or techno/drum and bass show, or bluegrass concert. Occasionally I cave, and we usually have a lot of fun (except for that pathetic Medeski, Martin and Wood concert at CU a couple weeks ago). Eventually, possibly this year, I will finally give in and go to one of those three-day summertime jam band festivals that Brooks lives for.

Along with skiing, brewing beer, and playing Frisbee golf, Brooks really likes to play Settlers of Catan. I’ve played this game more than poker the last couple months. Brooks isn’t necessarily a “gamer” like me and Paul, but like us, he can’t get enough Catan. He’s actually the best I know at the game. Strategically Paul and I are right there with him, maybe even ahead, but Brooks is incredibly deft at manipulating the social aspects of the game. He knows how far people are willing to go. He knows who can be pushed and how. And he doesn’t alienate other people, like Paul and I have been known to. He keeps it friendly, then uses those good vibes to get what he wants and dominate the game.

One night a couple weeks ago we were wrapping up a game of Catan around 2:30 AM when Brooks got a phone call from his mom. His father Tom had passed away after a long battle against blood cancer. In the general scheme of things, Tom’s death was not a shock. But it was on that particular day.

A week ago his family had an open house for all of Tom’s friends. The place was packed with dozens of people I’d never met. Brooks confessed to me that he’d never met many of them either, and half of them he hadn’t seen in five years. But he kept hopping around, shaking hands, telling stories, sharing hugs. Usually with a sparkle in his smile and a light in his eyes.

Since Tom’s death, Brooks has taken care of business. He’s been the one to get all the shit done that needs to get done when something like this happens.

Brooks is the oldest of the two Lustig brothers. The younger one, Reid, has been one of my best friends since he introduced me to the game of poker eight years ago. Reid is one of my all-time favorite humans, but he’s not all the way grown up. It has been obvious to me the last two weeks – and normally it is anything but obvious as we are playing Catan and Frisbee golf and going to concerts – that Brooks is now all the way grown up.

The world lost a good man when Tom Lustig died. But it got a good one, too.