This wonderful man is Nathaniel Hamilton. But we all called him “Brother.”

Brother lived to be 82 years old, and was a husband to Bernice, a father to Linda Mayfield and Cheryl Clemons, an uncle, a grandfather, cousin, buddy, and most of all, he was everyone’s friend.

Reflect …

As I reflect on his life, I remember the experience that made me particularly fond of him and the lesson I learned. One Christmas, my father had given me a tape recorder far more sophisticated than my ability. I got the tape tangled and couldn’t figure it out how to get it untangled. What I was doing wrong was not stopping the tape as I excitedly pushed every button on the tape recorder. My mother walked into the room, and shook her head to indicate that I was going to get it as soon as dinner was over. It was such a mess that no one wanted to be bothered.

Brother walked into the room and simply said we have to do something with this mess. He slowly and methodically begin to put the tape back on the reel, and showed me how to do this. He was so patient, and made it fun. It took hours. After we got the tape back, he patiently showed me how to operate the tape recorder. Every kid in the family has a story to tell about how brother helped them get out of a jam.

His manner of man has become rare. He was hip, yet old-fashioned. When his daughters and nieces, including me, began dating, he had drill questions for the young men. He would make them feel welcomed, and then he would begin to question — where do you go to school? Where do you live? What are your goals in life? And then the magic question, where did you work?

This was the big one.

If the young man had no job, he got a negative vote. Brother believed in jobs, and would let the date know that his girls were ladies, and he expected gentlemen-like behavior at all times, no matter what. He somehow was always up and waiting when it was time to come home. He heard the door, watched for the lights, and always wanted to know about the date — what did you do? Where did you go? Brother was always the first in the family to know when romances were growing into serious relationships.

Life Enjoyed

He was a simple man — played golf, cooked, mowed the lawn, held court, went into the backyard and barbecued, and would welcome you into his home, and invite you downstairs in the basement to listen to music and to watch TV. Neighbors, children, family, and friends would always come by to sit in the yard and talk.

Brother insisted that women do woman-like things — cook, shop, and the like. And he insisted that men behave like men, so he did the man things around the house — took out the garbage, opened the doors, did the heavy lifting, paid the bills — and never complained.

Brother took care of his family, provided, raised his children with a very special touch, played cards, and was just one of the kindest people I have every known. No fan fare. Just plain, simple, traditional, folksy, and warm hearted. He always found the best in people, and would notice changes in hair color and weight gain. If you looked nice, he would tell you, but if you looked a mess, he would tell. He was a man who enjoyed his life, was funny, would tease and laugh, and took life as he found it, faced it, and dealt with it. But most of all, he loved.

During this holiday time, we will miss him especially. Brother was not a particularly religious man, but indeed he expressed God’s spirit in his life. His is a generation that is vanishing. Those of us that knew him and loved him were lucky to share him.

All families should have the likes of Brother. If you do, give him a special kiss during this holiday time.

(Contact Hermene Hartman at Hhartman@ndigo.com.)