Hank

I am almost certain that I have mentioned before that one of my brother’s is ten months seventeen days older than I am. We will call him Hank. Hank and I have not only always been close in age, but also a close relationship. I am going to refer to him as Hank for all the torturous things he did to me as we were growing up. Hank has always been an exceptional brother. I can count on Hank for anything. I always have been able to. As young adults, Hank use to live with me. He was extremely messy. I could never understand how he knew his clean clothes from his dirty clothes; they all looked the same. He never folded or hung up a single piece of clothing. He simply left it all waded up to get wrinkles after washing his clothes. One day I found out how he kept them straight, a good old fashioned smell test. Not how I handled my clothes, however, to each their own. My house had two bathrooms. You would think that Hank’s bathroom would be the guest bathroom. No, Hank’s bathroom was gross. Hank would never clean his sink. It had little beard specks all over from shaving, as well as dried toothpaste. At least he handled his teeth better than his clothes. He would need to have much more going from him than a well-kept beard if he was ever going to get a female companion because of his lack of organizational skills. When he would use the restroom, he must have been practicing the hula hoop with his eyes closed. He was just messy. Hank bought himself a 4-wheeler and turned my yard into his personal motorcross track. That was cool,….. not at all. When we were growing up, Hank would call me fatty fatty two by four can’t fit through the bathroom door. Yes, I am in fact fat, however I have never not been able to fit through a bathroom door, he would also call me fatty four eyes. Both of those statements were true. I was fat and wore coke bottle glasses. I can’t be mad at that. In the hall one day, one of Hanks friends called me fat. Hank slammed his friend up against the locker by his throat. I could always count on Hank. I had probably been running my mouth to trigger hanks friend to call me fat, I am sure I had earned it. I do not recall it ever hurting my feelings, (Hank had prepared me with his fat jokes)it was not a lie.

As we got older, I realized how important Hank has always been to me. Hank has always loved me unconditionally; he has never judged me. When we were kids, we burnt our barn down by smoking cigarettes and putting them out in the hay. We burned up some of my dad’s farming equipment as well. Hank took the blame for it. Hank has always been my protector. There are times, even at our age, Hank is still my agitator. We attend the same church. His family and mine all sit in the same pew. It is crowded. Hank typically starts off the service on one end of the pew, I am mid pew. Next thing I know, somehow Hank has made his way to sit beside me. I do not see this happening. I am trying to pay attention. God knows I need a lot of Jesus. Hank is left-handed so he is constantly elbowing me, I am quite sure it is on purpose. The five-year-old in me wants to yell stop elbowing me at the top of my lungs.

A few weeks ago, I was having a pity party. There are so many things that I cannot physically do, mental tasks are challenging at best. Thank goodness I am too ignorant to quit. I would rather my eyes be gouged out with a dull spoon than to have to ask anyone for help. The last thing I am comfortable doing is asking Hank or really anyone to come do something that I know I should be able to do. I try extremely hard to look at my glass as half full, occasionally, all I can see is an empty glass and it can get the best of me. Hank had tried to call me, and I messaged him back and told him I was having a difficult day, and I would call him later. Hank called me again later in the day, I did not want to answer, however, I knew I needed to. Hanks next step would have been driving the ten minutes to my house. I answered and he was so sincere, he asked me why I do not ever let him know when I need something done. He said that he knows that it is hard for me, but he is my brother, and he does not mind doing things I need done. I am so glad that I answered the phone that time. Sometimes I am skeptical of answering Hank’s phone calls. A lot of times he will call and say “what are you doing? “Nothing but silence on the other end. Then I will ask what he needed and he will say nothing, followed by more of the awkward silence. However, Hank had not called to get under my skin this time. The sincerity in his voice with understanding meant a lot to me. I do not know why I struggle so badly to ask for help, other than I let my pride get in the way. It is one thing for me to realize I cannot do things; it is another level of sadness when I must admit to someone else, I cannot do something. I walked around for an exceedingly long time with my shoes untied because I could not remember how to tie them. It took me months to ask Karen to help me. The other morning, I needed to use the staple gun. Of course, it was out of staples, I spent an hour and a half trying to figure it out. The longer I tried, the worse things got because my right hand was burning from the cold, so my dexterity was worse than usual. I still never figured out the staple gun. I will try again another time. It is that ignorant persistence that I have spoken of before.

Lesson for the day, ignorant persistence is not always a bad character flaw to have. There are plenty of times that I want to lay down and cry. What purpose would that serve other than make me mad and feel like crap for being a crybaby? I hope and pray that anyone who is ever dealing with any type of adversity in their lives has a support system like I do. I hope everyone has a Hank. Time is life’s biggest thief. Something that will never be returned. Once in awhile (Sunday in church may not be the best time) allow your inner child to surface. I do not see Hank as a fifty-year-old man, I do see all the gray in his beard and his extra-large forehead that will blind you when the lights hit it right, his hair eluded him. I see the same faithful Hank from forty years ago. Be grateful for the bonds that have lasted a lifetime. The thief will one day make one of us face this world without the other. The thought of that to me is gut wrenching.

 I am certain that my other brothers we will call them top golf and the great hunter, then there are my sisters, miss I am the oldest, straight shooter (she has never had the ability to do anything but call it how she sees it) then guga, (Hank could not pronounce her actual name when he was little, it came out guga). I am certain they would all help me, if I would allow myself to ask.  Look at that, stories, lessons as well as a family tree.

Hank, I love and appreciate you, I am thankful that you are a kind and compassionate man! That makes up for all the things you convinced me to do as a kid, that we got into trouble for, also for all the fat comments. To da loo