Rodney R Fuller, circa 1985

For some reason, I’ve been thinking about my brother Rodney. He was born nine years before I was and as far as I can tell, my major caretaker when I was a wee lass. His nickname for me was “Poops” — I’ll give you one guess what I did to deserve that moniker.

Rodney isn’t strong in my memory the way he is for the three older kids (K, V & lil’ D). He was an integral part of their growing up, whereas I was quite the afterthought and an annoying one at that. I wasn’t even a teen when he went on his mission, but when he returned, I enjoyed spending time with him which he didn’t often appreciate.

To me, he seemed so cosmopolitan partly because he had been on three of the world’s continents (he was born in Europe, grew up in the States and served his mission in South America). Overall, it was his inquisitive, impulsive nature that made him so interesting. He would “borrow” the family car and go see the sunrise in Joshua Tree and then turn around to see the sunset in Santa Monica. One time, he wanted to get a specific photo, so at 10 p.m., he started driving to San Francisco so he was there the next morning to get the shot. He got out of the car, took the shot, got back in the car, drove right back to L.A. and was home in time for dinner. Oh, the miles he put on that blue Honda Wagon! He’d return from his trip with his left arm burnt to a crisp, his right arm pale as ash and not tell us about it; rather, he’d turn on his favorite TV show and put his feet up for a few hours.

What I remember most about Rodney was that he LOVED movies. One summer, he and I went to every new movie on opening day. Rodney would limit his food budget so that he had sufficient funds to see these first-run films. It didn’t matter who was in it, what it was rated or what the topic was, he wanted to see them all! He rarely loved them, but he loved being able to discuss with others the merits or lack thereof of each film.

The last time I remember seeing Rodney was the weekend that Forrest Gump opened. I didn’t get a chance to chat with him about the movie, but I’m grateful that this was the last film we saw together rather than Police Academy 26. Every time I come across aspects of this film — from the movie stars to the “profound” quotes to a feather floating in the wind — it reminds me of my brother.

Rodney died in the fall of 2001. He had an undiagnosed heart defect that made his heart give out twenty years before it should have. Because his death was so sudden, no one was given a chance to say goodbye to him. However, I’m grateful for our last shared interaction. The fact that this film became infused in our culture made me realize that life really is like the box of chocolates. I didn’t know when I last saw him that I wouldn’t see him again. I’m surprised at how often I’m blessed with the opportunity — or perfect chocolate, if you will — to remember a brother I miss dearly.

I love you, Rodney.