When Brian and I were in Iceland the cool thing to do for everyone after hours was to eat at this one hotdog stand by the harbor and the flea market. You'd think by the size of the line of people waiting to buy their hotdogs that it was the most amazing tasting thing on Earth. The guy in front of us told me this hotdog is one of Iceland's national foods. We waited about 45 minutes until we finally made it to the counter to place our order. We ordered 4 dogs prepared "Clinton" style - named directly after Bill Clinton in honor of his visitation during his Presidency. Brian grumbled about it, but still was happy to feast on the hotdog with ketchup, some weird yellow colored mustard, and fried onions. After we both inhaled our late-night snack we knew exactly what the wait was all about. That was the best damn hotdog ever!

When we got back from the trip I visited Brian in Cincinnati about 5 months later and he surprised me by whipping up a batch of those exact same hotdogs. He found the stand online and ordered the whole kit! Brian was really cool and funny like that.

A year and half and the Nobel Peace Prize

Today it has been 18 months since we found Brian. Still does not seem real and it feels like a bad dream. I really want a "do over."

Susan and I were talking about Brian last night and discussed how we would love to have just five minutes more with him. We talked about all the crazy things he pulled off and how humor was such a big part of his personality. Making people laugh was clearly one of Brian's gifts.

Today, the Nobel Peace Prize went to our President Barack Obama. I wondered how Brian would react. Most know Brian was a world traveler and a staunch conservative. He did not care for Obama or his policies.

Back in 1990, my parents took us to Ireland, London, and France for their 25th wedding anniversary. During a bus tour of London we saw some graffiti spray painted on monument in Trafalgar square. It was simple and elegant in its message. It said: "I hate Norwegians". Brian and I howled with laughter and loved it. We wondered “what has Norway ever done to make people hate them?”

Today, Brian would not be happy about the Nobel Prize. He would tell anyone with a cell phone about this injustice and how "he hated the Norwegians".

Then, either my Dad or I would tell him the Nobel Prize is from Sweden. After a couple of seconds of silence, Brian would then say "well, you know what I meant. I guess I now hate the Swedes too."

Miss you Brian and know you are always with us.

Love, your brother.

* Note: The Swedes handle four prizes while Norway picks the peace prize. Technically, Brian would have been correct. But, it does not help my punch line so it stays as is.

Maryland and Nicky Smith's Graduation Party

Brian, Ted, Adam and I were out and about in Mt. Adams on a Thursday night back in the summer of 1998 and were kicking around the idea of driving to Baltimore for Nicky Smith's XU graduation party. We all wanted to go on a road-trip, but we'd already been overserved and nobody wanted to be the one to wake up early, motivate Team Khaki, and make the drive to friggin' Maryland. Brian was the first up that morning and he managed to get everybody in the shower by threatening beatings. I'm guessing his neverending love for Nicky somehow manipulated his mind and body-clock because Brian was always the last one up and the last one in the shower. Flash forward to the ultimate game of paper, rock, sciccors between the four of us to decide who would drive. My usually undefeated rock was no match and for the hard fought efforts of my equally hung-over friends and I was deemed driver.

Long story short, we make it in one piece to Baltimore and even get to Nicky's graduation party on time! Later that night the party moves to a cool, historic, waterfront community called Fells Point that you have to ferry over to. We end up at a bar called Terrapin Station (Grateful Dead meets love for University of Maryland Terps) and Brian has command over the juke-box. Brian selects his five songs and its back to business. We're all having the time of our lives, drinking yard-stick beers, and Brian is rocking his infamous Vanilla Ice t-shirt with a smile. After two song selections pass, "Jumper" by Third Eye Blind comes on and we all cheer Brian for the great song choice, although the bar in unison boos the tune, which sends Brian back to the juke-box. I approach him to see what's up and he shows me a crisp $10 bill and I watch as the machine sucks it up. He flips to Third Eye Blind and plays "Jumper" (which is about teen suicide) a straight 20 times in a row!

Ever since then whenever we'd hear Jumper we'd call to say the song was on and laugh about Fells Point. That's not even the best part of the story, Nicky and her friends were so embarrassed of us that she quietly left the bar leaving us alone in a city we'd never been to without any idea of how to get back to our hotels. Did that slow us down? Not in the least. Team Khaki aka Cash Money Brothers went on bar-hopping and eventually managed to make it back to the hotel in one piece.

On Friday, October 2nd, I booked Third Eye Blind to play my club and I thought of Brian the whole time. I miss him so much.

The photo is of me and the lead singer of Third Eye Blind, Stephen Jenkins, that Brian would have loved.