October 28, 2006
Bruce Sterling was one of the good guys. As I search my memory of his life, there is a tendency to remember the ornery things that he did as a kid. But, that’s the way memories often work: we tend to remember the traumatic stuff and forget the good stuff. OK Bruce, if I have tended to remember the negative and forget the positive, forgive me. I’ll try to make up for it.
As the legend goes, Bruce was a happy camper when I was born. He had even gone so far as to make a request for a little brother to our parents. “If I could just have a little brother, I’ll never be mean to him.” (At least Dorothy or somebody told the story that way.) Bruce already had 3 sisters and wanted a brother. Being 7 years older than me, he was my teacher of “guy” things. Sure, Dorothy, Peggy and Fanny taught me stuff too, like how to count, recite the alphabet and assorted girl notions of things important. But Bruce taught me the macho ideas. You know, like how to milk a cow, bridle, saddle and ride a horse, fall off a horse, climb citrus, olive, athel, and date trees, drive a car, swim, ride a bike, dig a cave, shoot a gun and nigger-shooter, cuss (in English and Spanish) and of course, how to play ornery tricks on my little brothers. What a teacher!
On our old farm by Grandma and Grandpa Sterling’s house, one of Bruce’s farm jobs, was to help protect the citrus crop from those pesky Green Jays. So he taught me how to shoot a BB gun to murder those pesky, but beautiful birds. How this same BB gun ended up in that hands of Rodrigo Salinas so that he could use it to shoot Peggy Jo as she traipsed down the path through the citrus orchard, may never be known. He also taught me a little chemistry. You know, like if you apply uric acid in solution at body temperature, in repeated doses to the same weed, eventually the weed will die.
His teaching method was similar whether it was to drive a car or to swim. The swimming lesson was something like: “Just paddle with your hands like a dog and kick your feet.” Then he threw me in the deep, muddy, swirling waters of the big canal. Once I found my way to the water surface, I swam to the bank and was almost instantly confident that I could survive in water! To drive, he introduced me to the brake, clutch, steering wheel, and foot-feed of a small, green car we had at the time. Then he said, “Drive.” I was maybe 10 years old and could barely see over the dashboard, and we were driving on a narrow dirt road between the big canal and a drainage ditch. “Faster, faster!” he exhorted. Yep, we survived that too, and I learned to drive a car.
Later in life, Bruce proved to be very family-oriented. He seemed to love having family members come visit. He, with either Beebe or Arleen, hosted several family reunions at his farm. The first ones were composed mostly of brothers, sisters and their families.
He was also a good father. And he showed great strength of character to overcome tragedy. When the airplane crashed in India and Beebe, Joyce and Amy died, it must have been the greatest tragedy in Bruce’s life. Many of us drove to Houston to meet the plane when Bruce and Lee came home. It was one of the saddest times possible. Beebe was such a wonderful mother, and the girls were the darlings of Bruce’s eye – so pretty, bright and talented. It left a giant emotional hole in Bruce’s life, and he was never exactly the same afterward. But he went on with his life. After a while, he began bringing new lady-friends to visit us – apparently to get our opinion. We offered none -- at least verbally. Then he married Arleen.
Bruce was very generous. Remember that he moved Mom and Dad to his pecan ranch and took care of them till Mom died and Dad could no longer take care of himself. He furnished them with a home and was always on call if they needed help. Dad could not understand Bruce’s new pecan & cattle business. It was Bruce’s plan to lose a little money every year so he could deduct the losses from his taxes. Dad thought this economic approach was madness – and was not bashful about venting his opinion on Bruce – who suffered in semi-silence. When Mom died, Bruce did not ask family members for assistance, he ordered headstones for Mom, Beebe and the girls, built a fence around the cemetery and he and Arleen took care of it for many years. With no central planning, family members planted stuff till the cemetery became a virtual jungle. Bruce did not complain -- much.
Bruce’s pecan farm became a virtual family gathering place. Since the pecans and cattle always needing tending, Bruce seldom left the farm for any great period of time. Consequently, he was home when any of us wished to visit. As a matter of fact, he used that irresistible lure of Texas BBQ, Mexican tamales and Czech kolaches (and those delectable little sausage rolls named kolbasnikes) to attract us all to the Navidad Ranch. There we spread out meals on tables under the giant Live-oak trees, drank beer, tea, and cokes and then often had a jam session with Bruce on guitar, me on uke and Beebe on accordion. Then the Sterling sisters would sing many of the old favorites. When Bruce bought the new farm across the road from the Navidad, the reunion tradition continued with a large one which included cousins, aunts, uncles and such.
In the Bruce Sterling family, there was a love of nature and pecans – among other things. Beebe was the family naturalist, who knew the birds, trees and flowers. I think she probably taught her kids (and her husband) to love nature. But there was a limit to Bruce’s love of nature. But, when nature collided with pecan production, crows and squirrels became dispensable. In his later years, he obtained a 222 rifle with scope and took pride in being able to shoot crows almost a ¼ mile away from his porch.
Bruce was also a devoted patriot. I remember informing him that if we ever had another Viet Nam, I would consider sending my boys to Canada to avoid the draft. Bruce was horrified. “Not me!” he exclaimed. “If my country calls, I will go.” He believed in all the old-fashioned stuff that his father and his grandfathers also believed. You know, like individual freedom and responsibility, the virtue of hard work, and taking care of yourself, your family and your country. Distrust of big government.
So Bruce, we honor you today! You came so far in your life from a boy growing up in a poor family from South Texas. You served your country in the US Army stationed in Okinawa then returned, married your sweetheart Beebe, put yourself through the University of Texas, graduated with an Engineering degree and spent much of your life building ammonium plants for Amoco Oil Company -- that helped create the Green Revolution that feeds the world. You and Beebe raised bright and handsome kids.
So Bruce, for sharpening my survival instincts as a child, and for being a good brother the rest of our lives, I will forever be in your debt. I miss you brother.
