Brotherly Love

Yesterday my husband’s one brother, the middle of three, made a whirlwind overnight visit. At age sixty he retired, rather against his will, and gets bored without physical activity.

Tackling chores around his home and helping his daughter set up housekeeping in her new apartment kept him busy for a while. And don’t misunderstand. He didn’t just move her belongings in and hang pictures, he refinished old furniture pieces, restoring and enhancing their beautiful utility.

Hours spent splitting wood for neighbors was considered entertainment. Then an old basketball hoop on his property received a fastidious restoration before being handed over to a ten-year-old boy who lost his in a storm. The industrious philanthropist actually ran out of projects close to home and begged us for busywork.

Before he’d been in town for more than ninety minutes (half the time spent driving here!), Michael powered through numerous indoor tasks. Then he went outside in ghastly heat to tackle my requested gardening chore.

A tired old grass garden now full of weeds...

I’d planned to help but never got the chance before he finished. Several times, he complained that the work was too lightweight.

Debris is curb ready; plot set for spring tilling.

~shakes head~

Gotta love him. He is a very amusing fellow I’ve always appreciated. Now, I am awed. Not only is he a formidable force of nature, his intention is to stay busy doing good deeds for other people.

“Call me if you need anything,” he said before heading back north.

This evening he’ll be attending a former colleague’s memorial service. While the tedious cross-state commute alone wears me out, it disappointed him when my husband had not procured a hose long enough for him to clean out our gutters.

Should I start a list of projects, and perhaps call upon not only him but also those neighborhood kids looking for odd jobs to help out and learn from him?

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