My book club just read “Ghosty Men” by Franz Lidz, the true story of the Collyer brothers, notorious New York hoarders. Homer and Langley Collyer lived in a Harlem mansion, purchased when that was a fashionable area of the city, and became hoarding hermits whom their neighbors called The Ghosty Men. Homer lost his eyesight and was “paralyzed with rheumatism” and stopped leaving the house altogether. Langley would only leave the house late at night and would walk all over the city picking up trash and left over food. Despite having plenty of money, he begged for left over bread and meat in stores all over the city. Their house was full of literally tons of junk (over 100 tons removed after their deaths) including multiple pianos, cars, chandeliers and stacks and stacks of newspapers. (so Homer could catch up on the news when his eyesight returned)
Langley took care of his brother, including supplying him with the 100 oranges a week they thought would restore Homer’s sight, until he died, crushed under a junk booby-trap of his own making. Once Langley died, Homer slowly starved to death. The brothers had no phone, no electricity, no heat, just each other. Now that’s dedication.
I loved Eric, I think we were pretty close, but I’m not sure I could match that kind of sibling care. I think I would actually take Eric to a doctor instead of inventing my own dubious cures and I hope I would get him help if he developed a compulsive hoarding disorder.
Neither brother ever married, their whole lives were wrapped up in each other. I think my relationship with Eric was healthier, even if no one will write a book about us and crowds of New Yorkers will not gather outside our residences to gawk. I think that’s a good thing.
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