"I Am Growing and Developing"

In my grandparents' home, above the arch that separates the living room from the kitchen, resides a homemade sign. On two pieces of posterboard in big block letters, outlined with marker and filled in with colored pencil, reads the phrase "I am Growing and Developing." This inspirational piece of signage was created by my uncle, Jerry Jon Campbell, to aid him in the war he waged in the early 1980's against a formidable opponent known as brain cancer.

He lost the war, as so many do. Jerry lived long enough to experience the prom, but not quite long enough to graduate from high school. I don't remember much about him. I recall that he blew my two-year-old mind when he took me to a feeding trough at my grandparents' ranch and ate a mouthful of oats that were meant for the horses. What a wild and crazy guy - eating animal food! To my infantile mind the act seemed about as nuts as the idea of a black female president.

I also remember that Jerry owned a mini bike, which is a junior version of a motorcycle. It was a shiny, green step up from a mo-ped. He would take me for rides on this magical machine, and I felt as close to a Hell's Angel as one can feel at two years of age. Hanging out, taking mini-bike rides with a guy who munched on horse food, was like starring in the Disney version of "Easy Rider." The main character even died too early.

A couple of years ago, my Aunt Cindy compiled a video of old family movies. On the video are two musical performances. One includes me, at the age of two, singing a number that I composed myself entitled "The Jamie Lee Campbell Song." It consisted of me pounding on as many piano keys as my small hands could hit at once and wailing my full name at the top of my lungs. The crowd was captivated and, to this day, I believe that video captured my finest live performance. Basically, the entirety of my career thus far has been a weak attempt to recreate the magic that I made at that young age. I hit my peak at two.

The other musical performance on the video was the headliner to my opening act. It was performed by the only person who could follow the my stellar showing. Uncle Jerry topped me by doing the single, greatest, most spot-on impersonation of Mick Jagger in the history of history. Normally, lip syncing would be considered a lame attempt at entertainment, but the art form was at it's height as Jerry Jon Campbell encapsulated Jagger's movements and facial quirks to the letter. I don't remember which one of the Rolling Stones' hits he performed to, but that detail is unimportant. He stole the show.

More than twenty years after his death, Jerry's sign still hangs above my grandparents' living room. They have turned his bedroom into an office. My grandfather's dry-cleaned Wrangler jeans and sport coats hang in the closet. There is a computer desk where his bed once was. Still, in the living room hangs the last vestige of a boy who went down, but not without a fight. Considering Jerry's legacy, it becomes apparent that the story of how we die, while often tragic, is far less interesting than the tale of how we live - how we grow and develop.