Danehy

Tucsonan Dirk Nelson reminds me of Michael Keaton’s character, Billy
Blazejowski, in the 1982 comedy movie Night Shift. The dozen or
so of you who remember that movie will know exactly what I mean;
everybody else will need some help.

Directed by Ron Howard (who hadn’t quite hit his A Beautiful
Mind/Cinderella Man stride yet), Night Shift tells
the story of a nebbish (Henry Winkler) who is passed over for a
promotion he deserves and is relegated to the graveyard shift at a New
York City morgue. But then he’s given an assistant, and comic mayhem
ensues.

Billy Blaze, as he calls himself, is a whirlwind of nervous energy,
a jive talker with way too many “brilliant” ideas and a never-ending
supply of get-rich-quick schemes. Soon, Billy’s using the city hearse
as a limo to take kids to the prom, and he drags Winkler into a
ridiculous scheme to become pimps to some heart-of-gold hookers. Billy
carries with him at all times a tape recorder, just in case he flashes
on an inspiration. One night, as he’s unwrapping a fast-food hamburger,
he pauses, whips out the tape recorder and says, “Note to Bill: edible
paper.”

That’s Dirk, standing when most people would sit, running when most
people would walk. If you told him to calm down and take a break, he’d
probably draw a breath, blink and then say, “OK, what’s next?”

He owns a couple of businesses, including Warrior Fitness, where
he’s basically the personal trainer to the seriously masochistic. He
drives around in a bright-yellow sports car that advertises the Web
site he runs, on which people can “Rag or Brag” on or about local
businesses. He’s been a high school basketball coach and was named one
of Tucson’s 40 Under 40. But it is one of Dirk’s nonpaying endeavors, a
longtime labor of love, that is dominating his thoughts these days.

Dirk’s father died when Dirk was 3 years old. He was raised by his
mother, with whom he is still incredibly close. (She even shows up to
watch him play in adult-recreation-league basketball games. There is a
special place in heaven for people who do that, as such games are
generally “contested” by either Has-Beens or Never-Weres, with the
resulting quality of play being something for which the term “quality”
should not be employed.)

He says that his mom did a great job of raising him, but there was
always that little something missing. A few guys drifted in and out of
his life as would-be mentors, including a few from the Big Brothers Big
Sisters of Tucson. They’d hang in for a few months, but eventually
they’d get a job or move away or simply lose interest. They weren’t bad
people, but Dirk thinks they were unaware of the feeling of abandonment
they would leave behind once they were gone.

“I told myself that when I got older, I would do it right. I would
break that cycle,” he recalls.

And so it was that he came to be a Big Brother to Nathan
Spangenberg. Nate, as Dirk calls him, and his older brother, Colin,
lost their father to cancer when Nate was only 4. Dirk was a natural
for the situation.

“I was Nate’s Big Brother for 12 years. I hung out with him and
Colin every chance I got. We’d go camping, play basketball and go to
the movies. You know how they say that 90 percent of success in life is
just showing up? You just have to be there for them.”

Being a Big Brother or Big Sister isn’t about molding the perfect
human being. The kids are going to mess up and lose focus like any
other kids. The Big Brother should act like those inflatable bumpers at
the bowling alley, nudging the kid back toward the middle of the
lane.

“Nate wasn’t a great student,” Dirk says, “but he was a good guy. In
class, he was kind of a doodler. His mind would wander, but he wasn’t
disruptive or anything.”

He eventually left Marana Mountain View High School for a charter
school, but then quit that and got his GED. He followed his older
brother into the Army and appeared to have found his niche. He served
15 months in Iraq and was training for the Special Forces. Dirk says
that Nate had recently completed a 12-mile hike while carrying a
50-pound pack and had done so in record time.

“He was really into it,” says Dirk. “He loved being in great
shape.”

After surviving nearly 500 days in Iraq with nary a scratch, Nathan
Spangenberg died in Schofield Barracks in Hawaii after a brief illness.
He was 21. He had called his mother a few days earlier to tell her that
he had strep throat and was undergoing further medical tests because of
blood and protein in his urine. He said he was going to take it easy
and stay in the barracks and watch movies. His body was discovered when
he didn’t show up for his work assignment.

Dirk was a pallbearer at the funeral a couple of Saturdays ago. He’s
still sorting out his feelings.

“Y’know, I can’t begin to imagine what a parent goes through. I knew
Nate for 12 years, and we were like brothers. But it’s all so random
and so final.”

This article appears in Oct 8-14, 2009.