The Rumble of America

My brother is not the kind of guy who needs to be recognized for the hard work that he does. He's not the kind to make a big deal. He's not the kind to ask for recognition. He's not the kind to demand pay raises. He's a simple guy. An American country boy. There's nothing that makes him happier than doing what he can to keep America running smoothly. He is always willing to go the extra mile for a friend, or to stay late to work on just one more problem.

My brother doesn't fit the mold for most people. He would never be considered a member of the upper class. He never went to college. It wasn't for him. Anyone who is fortunate enough to know him knows that he is a guy who needs to work with his hands. You see, ever since he was little, he was fascinated with cars. He loved watching every car movie, every racing film, listening to songs about cars, reading books and magazines about them, designing new models, and even drawing cars. They consumed his life.

My brother decided to turn this passion into his life. He started working at a truck repair shop no bigger than a trailer. In the summer, he went without air conditioning. Small fans hoped to keep these workers cool. His once fair skin burned daily, peeled, and eventually changed into a deep tan. In the cold of winter he worked outside, fingers freezing, often with cuts he didn't even realize he had because his exposed skin was numb. He worked, never complaining, listening and singing loudly to his country playlists. The only real music he'd say. In the spring, the men who worked in this trailer opened their new beautiful shop. My brother and his bosses were overjoyed to have a beautiful shop in which they could proudly display their products. They were thrilled to have a workshop in which they had both air conditioning and heating and a bathroom. Then the pandemic hit.

My brother never stopped going to work until they were forced to close. And even when they shut down, he reached out to people he knew who might need help. He helped friends who were in need. He is one of those 'blue collar' workers smeared with grease, tanned skin, dirty fingernails, calloused hands, cut skinned, backwards hat wearing kids who is not afraid to step in when others give up. He is one of the American citizens proud to work on the vehicles that keep us moving, that allow us to get to where we need to be.

I cannot begin to say thank you to my brother. I watch him in his work, and I see the tried and true American pride shining through his blue eyes. He’s never been afraid to live his own version of the American Dream. He's never afraid to work in a line of work others might look down on. He's never afraid to stay extra hours. He's never afraid to roll up his sleeves for someone in need. He’s never going to think he’s above someone. So to the little brother who stands towering almost a foot taller than me, thank you. Thank you for never being too tired, even when your muscles must be exhausted from lifting heavy pieces of machinery. Thank you for offering to look one more time for a problem no one has been able to fix. Thank you for explaining the problem over and over again until your customer understands. Thank you for keeping America moving. Thank you for making sure the essential workers can get to their jobs and back home safely to their families. Thank you for making sure people have the best you have to offer. Thank you for being you. Thank you for keeping the rumble alive in America.