Friday, March 26, 2010
Nic, my big brother.
The one whose toy armymen would blow up my toy animal villages in the backyard sandbox.
He's grown up since then.
In fact, he's grown up to be quite a guy.
He was a doctor. But he saw his kids growing up without him.
Quit his practice.
Stayed home with the kids.
And wife Marti.
They live in a modest house.
No fancy vacations.
Don't eat out much.
And they are so happy.
This is a man who lives with conviction.
And he bikes.
Back when I learning pathology, he was biking with his wife from Chicago to Duluth, Minnesota.
They were stopping at the Mom and Pop cafes and eating two breakfasts. Each.
Being hardier than Al and me, they carried their own gear.
Al and I will be supported by America by Bicycle, a company that will carry our one suitcase, find hotel rooms and perform minor mechanical repairs as needed.
We are, I would say, wimps.
Brother Nic and wife Marti faced the elements.
Until the final leg of the trip as they were nearing the final stop near Chicago.
Some daggone festival had eaten up all the breakfasts for miles around.
It was raining.
They were miserable.
Finally they called sister Cally to come bring them in from their long journey.
Nic had given up biking over the years.
But this spring he dusted off the old Trek and biked to work last week.