Christmas Lights and my Brother

On Saturday I went over to my brother's house to help him put up Christmas lights.  He has a beautiful home, has worked very hard to acquire all he has and so has his wife.  I pull into their driveway in my 99 Suzuki, and the contrast between my vehicle and their aesthetically pleasing burb is obvious but there is no judgement from my brother.  He is outside, already involved in the task at hand and focused on what needs to be done.  He greets me warmly, as always, with a hug and a "how ya doin."  I offer up the cider and doughnuts I brought and after a few minutes of exchanging pleasantries I ask him for direction and begin assisting him in the day long job of hanging lights from various trees in his moderately sized lot.  The air is filled with autumn smells and it's humid and somewhat foggy...I absolutely love it.  It's the temperature of double layer clothing - t-shirt and sweatshirt.  I have a cup of Sbux and it's about 11:00am.  As I proceed to place layers of lights around a Blue Spruce about 20 feet tall, I have thoughts of my grandfather, who would be outside every year, no matter what the weather was like, strategically placing large bulky strands of lights with bulbs the size of large strawberries upon the perfectly trimmed bushes in the front of his modest home.  He would be out there for hours and would remain until the job was done.  My brother is this way as well and I'm certain he acquired that trait from my grandfather.  My grandfather had arthritis and was not able to stand straight.  My brother will be having a knee replacement in a few weeks and most likely surgery on his shoulder as well but he endured the physical task of this annual routine.  It's what needs to be done.

I spend the day with my brother, just the two of us, talking, laughing, working.  He shows no sign of frustration even though he had to leave at one point to purchase additional lights (the trees have grown exponentially since the previous year) and hit up 4 stores before finding what he was looking for.  After several hours, with an occasional break, we finish our job.  We are both pleased with the results and he is satisfied with having completed something that needed to be done before his surgery.  His wife arrives home after spending the day with her sisters out shopping and inspects our work.  She offers a little constructive criticism but follows up with a compliment to balance it out.  I thank her for the "quality control" inspection and we laugh as we head into the house.  We spend a polite amount of time chatting about the days events before I hug she and my brother as we say our goodbyes.

As I drive home, I reflect on the day.  I feel grateful and fulfilled with a sense of family and love.  My brother is not one for conversations about feelings and such, but like my grandfather he shows his love and strength for his family in the way that he lives.  Like my grandfather, he is quiet about such things but there is a silent knowing of his commitment and support.  And like my grandfather, he is quite simply, a good man.