Ed Gulley calls me his brother from a different mother, and this is both wise and true, I think. I was relieved to go visit Ed Gulley yesterday, he was very sick from a tick bite, and, for the first time in his life, couldn’t work.

I have a brother, but we  have never made it as brothers. He left him when I was very young, and I didn’t see him or hear from him for years. Once, I was there when he needed me, and once, he was there when I needed it. That’s really about it, we have nothing to do with one another and have come to a mutual agreement: we don’t need to pretend any longer.

I have some brothers now. Ed, certainly. Amjad, Abdullah Mohammed, who works with the refugee children, I call him “Ali,” and we call each other “brother.” Scott Carrino is getting to be a like a brother, we hang in there with one another, something few men do for long. I lost a brother when Paul Moshimer hung himself on that big tree, so I have mixed feelings about this brother thing.

I rarely use the term “brother,” it has special meaning for me, and for me. I was touched when Ed used it with me, and I now use it with him. I felt enormous relief seeing him yesterday, back in form, ranting about milk prices, storming around like a bull out loose, coming over to help me and Maria move our Tin Man, which he made.

We sat and talked for awhile – he is better but not fully healed – and it was a rich time, nourishing and connecting. I always judge a friendship by how I feel when they are gone. Do I wonder what was said or what it means? Do I feel uneasy and wary? With Ed, I always feel nourished and good.

He is an amazing man, a life-long dairy farmer full of himself and brimming with stories,  whose hands are always black with oil, and whose body is scarred and bruised – always. He and I have a similar sense of humor, and I think, as strange as it seems, we see the world the same way. And we are not both bloggers, we grasp the potential and freedom of our blogs, I love his Bejosh Farm Journal.

I can be completely honest with Ed, as he is with me.

He is a strong and tough man, he is healing rapidly, I can tell by the amount of abuse he heaped on me. I am sure today he is out fixing fences, pulling babies out of cows, talking nice to cows, planting corn or rescuing some deranged fox out in the fields.

I was worried about my Brother From A Different Mother. He was so sick, he even went to a doctor, which happens about as often as a full eclipse of the sun. I am relieved to see he is better.