Yesterday, my oldest brother Steve and I were sent on a “Mission from God” reminiscent of the old Blues Brothers movie. The Catholic school we attended 30 years ago had some furniture from a donor in Kansas City and required our unique talents to deliver these items. The unique talents Steve brought included his willingness to fund the excursion, drive nearly 1,000 mi. and his ability to borrow a pickup from one friend and a 5th wheel stock trailer from another. Me? I was willing to take a day off work for a good cause and shove some furniture around with my brother.
Steve drove up to stay with my family in Columbia Wednesday and read to my kids at bedtime. Early Thursday we drove to KC and met Mary, another St. Teresa alumni and the cousin of the current principle, at a warehouse. She brought a teenage neighbor to help us load. Items donated included 7 heavy fire-proof cabinets, a refrigerator and 2 conference room tables, one of them >20 ft. long.
As with any adventure, some things don’t work out the way you planned. We didn’t expect the stock trailer to be as old as it was and had anticipated features like brakes or at least brake lights to be functional. We had also not expected it to be padded with straw and horse crap. The truck however, donated to our cause byGreg Hobbs, performed admirably and could easy out-pace my 73 Charger pulling a 28 foot trailer. It sustained some damage when some wimp in an H2 Hummer insisted that Steve move the truck around the tiny lot: the tailgate was down and was torn off by the trailer.
There was ample opportunity to talk to my brother and explore the myriad of similarities and differences that make us family. We both have kids in Catholic schools: that we have in common. It’s politically that we differ. He brought up the high cost of fuel and I mentioned ExxonMobile’s $10B profit last quarter. Steve mused, “That’s going to make it challenging to elect another Oil-Man President.” God, he makes me laugh.
We filled the trailer with chairs, tables and dry erase boards and he had me back to work in Columbia by 1:30 in the afternoon. He still had 300 miles to go, but as far as I was concerned it was: Mission Accomplished.