The Fixer

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My brother Jim is in the East Coast region of the country trying to help fix up some of the damage from Hurricane Sandy. He's working unbelievably long hours out in the cold, leading large charges of men as they work to get people back into their homes.

We couldn't have possibly sent a better man, from this region, to help with the job.

You see, for years and years around these parts Jim is the guy we all think of when something goes wrong with something that we own. The circle widened from our family to a bunch of other families and before long Jim's life became secondary to what we all needed.

Because he's so damn good and so willing to give.

A few weeks ago my mother was asking me about something that had gone wrong around her house. The conversation didn't go very far because Mom knew that I couldn't possibly help her, I knew that I couldn't help her, and when I suggested to 'take a look' we both laughed.

"What the hell happened to me?" I asked Mom. "How is it possible that Jim, the guy directly younger than me in the hierarchy of the family, is so bright and I'm so dim?"

"He followed Dad everywhere," Mom said. "You went in the other direction."

And of course, that is the exact answer. I recall Dad telling Mom (I was about 12 at the time):

"All he ever does is read."

Contrast that with Jim.

After one of my books came out I was at the trunk of his car with him. I picked up the copy of the book I'd given to him. It was covered in motor oil, but had otherwise been untouched.

I was horrified.

"Who we kidding?" Jim asked. "I wasn't gonna' read it."

Yet Jim has certainly improved in his reading skills. The last few books that I've released he's been the first guy to get back to me with a review.

Me?

I still struggle to change a light bulb.

You think I'm kidding?

I'm waiting for my beautiful wife to hang the awards I received for the book writing. I'd give it a go, but she'd have to rehang them anyway. When I need to send a manuscript out, she has to build the box for me.

Seriously.

"I wish I would have followed Dad a little bit," I told Mom.

"You just didn't have it in you," Mom said.

Thank God that Jim did, and does.

There are a whole lot of people in Staten Island who are thrilled that he was like gum on the bottom of Dad's shoe.

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