Michael Duncan

This is a photograph of my first model, shot on the shores of Lake Mead, Nevada in 1977 near her home in Las Vegas.

I was one month short of my 19th birthday.  She was 26 years old.

Today (Saturday) was her birthday.  Gail would have been 59.  She died in 1987.  

My big sister was my confidante and advisor on so many things.  She taught me how to do layups with a basketball. How to drive a car. How to play a piano (never quite mastered that, but I can one-finger it).  How to sing songs, specifically the words to the Beatles hit “Yesterday” (which I still know).  How to play gin rummy (which I forgot). 

She taught me what not to say to females.   And, what to say to females.  (Obviously I should have kept notes). 

She gave me my first Playboy magazine.  Now, I dare you to say you had a better big sister than that!

When I got dumped by a girl for the first time I didn’t even have to tell my big sis.  She knew.  She mixed my first alcoholic drink, a Bourbon and Coke, and brought it to my bedroom where I was holed up hiding from the world.  I was 15 then.  I don’t think mom and dad ever new about that.  So, let’s not repeat that one, OK?

Gail was my biggest fan.  She made campaign posters for me when I ran for grade school student council (they featured a comely photograph of heart throb Raquel Welch, cut from a magazine, announcing her endorsement, a graphic choice Gail made, but apparently too sophisticated for the uneducated masses or at least wasted on the prepubescent sixth grade electorate.  I lost.) 

When I was in college she lent me money without me even asking.  She loaned me her car for something like six months once. She was the first person to ask me how I felt about something — a question I don’t get often and answer even less frequently.  I could tell her my most tightly held secrets, and did, without ever any concern about judgment or lecture or disapproval or anything like that.

The greatest lesson she taught me I learned from her passing 23 years ago.   That is, none of us can do this alone.  As humans we need help. From each other.  And the more time we spend doing that, the better our lives will be.   I miss her.  A lot.