By Bill King
Last week was the eighteenth anniversary of my oldest brother’s death. Elbert King died when he was only 64 years old. He was 15 years older than me. If he had been only a few more years older, he could have been old enough to have been my father. In some ways, he became more of a father figure to me than a brother. Because he was so much older than me, obviously, we didn’t grow up together. He and my other brother, Briggs, the only sibling I still have alive, were only three years apart in age. I was only three years old when Elbert married and left home. Obviously, I can’t remember any of those years we spent together at home. I do, however, have many memories from the years we spent together a little later.
During my younger years, Elbert lived in Florida two different times. When I was somewhere around 12, he moved back to our hometown. About a year later, my dad closed his place of business, and my brother converted Dad’s old store building into a paint and body shop. At the ripe old age of 13, I landed my first real after-school job. By “real,” I mean I got paid to do what I did. I became an apprentice in that trade, with my brother as my teacher. The first thing most body shop apprentices learn to do is sand and tape. I sanded the paint off cars and the fingerprints off my fingers, too! It didn’t take me long to figure out that bike riding, fishing, or swimming were all much more fun than sanding and taping, but those things didn’t pay.
I asked my brother to teach me how to spray paint. So, at the “thought-I-was-almost-grown” age of 14, I began “trying” to paint. I practiced with primer or scrap fenders and hoods until I could paint without the paint running off on the ground. Next, I learned how to replace body parts on wrecked cars and spread Bondo filler where needed. I worked in my brother’s shop until shortly after I graduated from high school.
About the same time that I started working in the shop, Dad started using his big-rig trucks for over-the-road long hauls. He was gone most of the time. A couple of years later, when I was 15 years old, Dad suddenly died. With Dad gone, my much older brother took on some of the role of a father. Before Dad died, I had worked when I wanted because I wanted. Then, with the “breadwinner” of our family gone, I needed to work because we needed the money. There were times when my brother didn’t have much for me to do, but he always managed to find something.
As a teenager, there were times when I needed more than money; I needed advice. I had a good mother, but sometimes, I needed a father to talk to about things. My other brother would gladly do that and did sometimes, but he lived out of state at that time. I can’t remember ever asking Elbert If I could talk to him and hearing him say, “I don’t have time.” He took time; he made time, probably when he really didn’t have time. My brother was by no means a perfect man. He made his share of mistakes, but when he saw me making mistakes, he was not afraid to say something.
I am thankful to both of my brothers for their investment in my life. Is there some young person you can invest in? You can make a huge difference in their life.
