By Steve Flairty
NKyTribune columnist
I could see clearly when my brother and I were growing up that we had few common interests other than having the same parents and living under the same roof. Our family lived on a small farm in Claryville and raised tobacco and a fairly large garden.
Mike embraced the lifestyle—especially the part where he got to do tractor work. In contrast, I worked the crops because I had no choice, and the opportunity to drive our Farmall Cub, or later, the Ford Jubilee, didn’t excite me.
I wanted to be lazy, but I wasn’t allowed to be. I preferred reading, along with a bit of writing, and some TV watching (which, ironically, I do little of today). Playing in the creek that bordered our property was a joy—when I could squeeze out the time, especially when Dad wasn’t watching, which was most of the time. Now, to succinctly describe Mike and my farm work habits, I hoed and weeded by hand while Mike cultivated with the Cub and bush hogged with the Ford.
Steve Flairty on left Mike on right at parents’ grave site in Butler County (Photo Provided)
The tractor gig was mostly Mike’s and I didn’t mind a bit. Guess it was a passive-aggressive approach I employed to protest farm work and that there wasn’t any fun in it. Today, however, count me as one appreciative for learning a strong work ethic from my parents. It sure has come in handy.
But what, or who, I really want to talk about is Mike and the respect I have for him, who is my junior by about 16 months.
Where I’ve pursued careers in education and writing, my brother has been a farm manager and a trucker—and a very successful one. Hands down, I’ve always said that he is smarter than me, and not only in “practical” things. He’s probably forgotten, but his marks in grade and high school were at least as good and probably better than mine. I also recall that he had a higher ACT score than me as we entered college.
We spent a year as roommates at Eastern Kentucky University, where he was an agricultural mechanization major. The two of us had some trouble getting along, but maybe it was because he got himself out of bed at 4:30 a.m. to work the EKU dairy farm for school credit and that necessitated going to bed at 9:30 p.m. I was on a totally different schedule and was frankly quite disturbing to him, honestly. He got a little grouchy, also honestly. At the same time, I quietly admired him for what he was doing — adult things at age 18.
After Mike received his two-year degree, he married and migrated with his wife, Theresa, a nurse, to northern Illinois where he served as a manager for a huge grain farm. I recall going to visit the two and Mike took me a ride on…you guessed it—a tractor, and one that was huge and had an enclosed cab with air conditioning. He maneuvered the monster tractor down long rows, seeming to be miles long, doing ground cultivating work. I didn’t want to get off that thing, either. This time, I enjoyed being on a tractor and it made for good leisure. I guess those passive-aggressive instincts of my youth were now a thing of the past, and I admired Mike for lifting himself in life from a Farmall Cub driver to conducting a tractor that I’m sure would push, today, a $100,000 price tag new.
After several years, the two moved back to Kentucky near Mom and Dad, while I lived in Winchester and later in Lexington and taught school. Mike started a trucking business and continued to get up at unreal hours, but without me around to make him grumpier. Theresa and he raised two boys, Evan and Matthew, and our parents watched them grow up. He was a continual helpmate for Mom and Dad, a fact that I’ll always appreciate being that I lived about two hours away.
And so let me tell you about the matter of his rescue mission back in the summer of 1992. It was during my first marriage, and I was stranded on vacation 300 miles away from home with my wife and three step-children in Hancock, Maryland. Our mini-van radiator overheated and shut us down. Ironically, or maybe providentially, a call to my father informed me that Mike had a truck load delivery about 30 miles away and was staying in a hotel there that night.
The hotel Dad identified (can’t recall the name) was important because it was in the age before we carried cell phones on our person. I called the hotel and they connected me to my brother.
I’ll give the short version for the rest of the story. My brother drove the next morning to the sub-par hotel we found in Hancock and craftily loaded our van on the back of his semi-trailer bed. The van sat contentedly behind a half load of tomatoes, but there was room enough. He squeezed the five appreciative rescue subjects inside his truck cab and drove us back to Butler, his home.
Along the way, we stopped at a restaurant where he treated the whole family to a scrumptious meal. We later sold the van and bought another, but we were glad to be back in Kentucky, even though our family vacation didn’t turn out to be much fun.
Yep, my only sibling is something special. He’s the best.
During my time of divorce, over a decade ago, it was my brother who most stood by me. He was careful not to take sides on the issue, speaking no ill about anyone. He just cared and helped me get back on my feet. He was a rock. Not bad for a little brother.
During the time of passing for both Mom and Dad in 2013, my brother took the lead in most aspects of the arrangements, as well as taking care of the estate proceedings. Not sure what I would have done without him. Additionally, at one of my book signings in Lexington right before Mom died, he and Theresa made sure Mom was present—there in a wheelchair though having terminal cancer. Pure class, my brother is.
I consider myself a hard worker; alongside Mike, I am a hopeless slacker. He’s not a classroom teacher, but he teaches by the way he lives. He’s not a writer or a public speaker, but his actions make for plenty of inspiration.
As a wedding present for my recent marriage, my brother gifted me with a power blower and a weed-eater—both important hand tools–to help tend the new home in Versailles. And now, with an acre of yard to mow, I’m looking to buy, yes . . some sort of small tractor to expedite the cutting of the grass. I look forward to having Mike give me some lessons on how to run the thing.
I hope that’s not asking too much of him. I may be pushing the limit by now.
Steve Flairty is a teacher, public speaker and an author of six books: a biography of former Kentucky Afield host Tim Farmer and five in the Kentucky’s Everyday Heroes series, including a kids’ version. Steve’s “Kentucky’s Everyday Heroes #4,” was released in 2015. Steve is a senior correspondent for Kentucky Monthly, a weekly NKyTribune columnist and a member of the Kentucky Humanities Council Speakers Bureau. Contact him at sflairty2001@yahoo.com or visit his Facebook page, “Kentucky in Common: Word Sketches in Tribute.” (Steve’s photo by Connie McDonald)
