The window washers

One aspect of Dutch culture that I’ve not yet commented on or told about is the window washers. I mean, granted, it’s not just the Dutch that have window washers. They exist in America, too. However, most of the window washers that I see in America are the ones that wash the windows of corporate businesses. I’ve never seen a team of men walking through a neighborhood washing the windows of those homes that have an agreement with the window washers. It is truly a fascinating experience.

So, what is there that’s so great about a window washer? Well, for one thing, we don’t have to wash the outsides of our own windows. That’s always nice, especially for the windows that are hanging three floors up in the air. For another thing, the window washers can always be a form of entertainment; at least, they are for my easily amused mind.

I remember that the first time I saw a window washer it scared me. The guy wasn’t scary or anything. I was mostly scared because I was watching the kids and then suddenly there was a man outside of our house. He had a ladder and lifted it up against the front wall. He climbed up. Once he got to the second floor I couldn’t see what it was that he was doing…but you can imagine that I didn’t necessarily think that it was good. Fortunately, before calling any emergency numbers I waited to see what would happen. I saw water fall. Then after a little while the man came back down and washed the first floor window. I felt better after that.

The back yard...

It wasn’t long before he found his way to the back window. That was rather shocking, also. See, the back of our house has a small backyard. The backyard is enclosed by a fence covered by a jungle of vines. The fence is high enough that the neighbors can’t see into the yard. At the furthest end of the yard is a door leading into an alleyway that connects all the houses in our general area. People that you don’t know never use that door. It’s generally just us, kids from the neighborhood, and their parents that use this door. Our family uses it to get our bicycles out of the yard, or just to get in and out in general.

When the window washers are in the neighborhood it can be very amusing. When they get to the point that they want to clean the back windows they have to walk through the small alleyway while carrying huge ladders. It’s always funny to be able to see the top of a ladder walking through the alleyway. It can make me laugh just about every time. The alleyway...

There is another aspect about the window washers that is very nice. We don’t always have the same washers. The certain group of fellows that did our windows first did them for quite awhile. But after that while they ended up moving on to another area. However, instead of us needing to find another window washer to wash the windows the washers from before gave all of their clients to another group of fellows, automatically providing us with a replacement. And so it goes, year in and year out. We have window washers. And if you’re ever in Holland and see a strange man carrying a ladder walk up to you window, don’t worry. He’s nice. And safe.

Realizing Reality

In the last month or so there have been a few side facts of my life that seem to bring things a bit more into focus. They were nothing that have personally affected me greatly, but that have made a large impression on me. Reality, or rather the reality of life, seems to be a little clearer. I’m not saying I have the answers to life, or the right way of thinking about life, but a small reality check has hit me.

A friend of mine talks often about life and how in life a Christian is a pilgrim. A pilgrim walks through from place to place, never having a real home until he/she gets to their Final Destination, which is Heaven when it comes to a Christian. I agree with Benjamin whole-heartedly. Christians aren’t a permanent fixture and shouldn’t consider themselves as such. It’s an important lesson that I hope to remember all during my walk in life. But I guess that’s what has actually caught my attention. Life.

Why would that concern me or catch my attention? I’ve got a nice life. I’ve got an interesting, full, exciting, and lively life. I wouldn’t switch it for the world.

But life. That’s the thing now. That’s the reality. When I was home for Christmas something terrible happened. It was something that I haven’t written about yet because of how sensitive it was. But due to another something that’s happened I’m going to write about it. The “something terrible” that happened was that somebody passed away. The somebody was a guy I grew up with. He was 21 years old. Three days before Christmas he died suddenly at lunch. He was in the middle of telling a story to his friends, with whom he was eating when he died. He died of an enlarged heart.

Two weeks ago a friend of mine (here in Holland) got suddenly sick. He ended up in the hospital. His first day he couldn’t walk or talk. He’s getting better now. He could’ve died, but thank God he didn’t. He’s still in the hospital, but hopefully he’ll be out soon.

Reality check? Definitely. Why? Because I see all around me, in my life and around it, that life is unpredictable. Life is short, sometimes. Life…Many times on the plane ride back to Holland I thought about how my life could end just like that. All it’d take is a second. So what should I do with this realization? I can’t ignore it. It’s too important. I’ll have to live like it’s my last second, every second. But I forget. Sometimes I forget. But when I’m sitting and thinking at night, I remember again. I don’t know what will happen with my life, but I do know that I want to live every moment right, as if it’ll be my last. Moments that God will approve of, so that He’ll look at me and say, “Well done.”

Levi

This week I was talking to my brother and received a compliment and an insult all in one sentence. I don’t think he meant to have the sentence compliment me, but it did anyway. He called me a name that I will not repeat because then my blog’s rating would have to be upped to PG for bad language. Anyway, the reason he called me this naughty name was because I hadn’t written anything about him yet. When we were home for Christmas I took pictures of him and had at the time commented that I’d be able to write a post about him. Apparently, he checked up on it to see if I’d done it yet. How is that a compliment? He read my blog. That’s a big compliment. So, Levi, this is for you and about you. I hope you enjoy it.

My younger brother, Levi, is 21 years old. He’s one of the strangest people I’ve met, but the kind of strange that is cool and entertaining (and sometimes annoying) all at once. It’s ok if I say that about him because I believe that one of Levi’s games in life is to try to be different. It’s a sort of hobby that involves everything about him, from his clothes to his hats that he wears to his taste in music and movies. It’s a side of him that has baffled and entertained me at many intervals of our last few years.

I remember when we were younger. He used to get picked on by kids bigger than him at the bus stop. They were supposed to be his friends, but he was always the center of their jokes. I got mad and tried to protect him, which only embarrassed him more than what the bigger boys were saying. It wasn’t very long ago. But now, I have to look up to my “little” brother because he’s taller than me. He’s also stronger than me. I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere and somehow he grew up.

Another part of Levi that can be rather dumbfounding is how he can sometimes be suddenly affectionate (when you’re either least expecting it or least wanting it). If I feel like hugging him and go and wrap my arms around him he responds, “Ewww! Don’t touch me!!” And even though he’s strong enough to push me entirely away, and he puts up a good show of trying to get rid of me, I almost always get to finish my hug (unless he’s mad at me). Then when he does something really stupid and I get mad at him he’s always there putting his arms around me. Of course, I don’t want him to touch me then and I try to push him away and get away. Sadly, he’s stronger and faster than me and I get a hug that I might’ve wanted 2 hours ago, but no longer want because he’d been a “jerk”.

Levi is now in the air force. He works as a photographer, taking pictures of whatever the AF ask him to take pictures of. He took pictures of Walt Disney’s son (I can’t remember his first name, but I think it begins with an R…such as Roy or something). Another time he took pictures of some “wind talkers”, Indians that were used to communicate between the American armies (WWII) because they spoke an unwritten language that was better than any code a person could make up. Levi got to see real ones. Before the year is over Levi will be making a big move. He will move to Germany, where he’ll be living for three years. He’s doing it through the Air Force. They bought him, really, because he only had two years left in the service and he wasn’t thinking about extending his time until they offered him Germany. I’m very excited for and proud of him. He gets to have one of the coolest experiences on the planet…living in another country. And even though he’ll be living on an American Base I hear that he wants to learn German while he’s in the area. That’d be the best thing he could do with the three years.

My brother could be considered eccentric. He has this lip ring that is great for gaining attention. In fact, when we were home for Christmas, one of our mutual friends greeted him by curiously tugging on the ring. She never said anything but just walked up, looked at him, and reached up and pulled on the lip ring. Levi never said a word. He just kind of cracked a smile, and when she let go of the lip ring we all had a nice laugh. Words were then exchanged (friendly words, of course). He listens to odd music, choosing who he prefers to hear according to how well known they are. The less known the artist or group is, the more he prefers to listen to them. He has funny clothes sometimes. I remember a time when he’d wear a black fishnet kind of shirt. He looked very odd. But then, that was Levi. He dresses a little more normal now, but he still prefers vintage clothing. And then there’s Thursday. One of the bands that he listens to is called Thursday. They are actually well known. How do I know? He wears shirts with the word “Thursday” on them. We make fun of him, no matter what day of the week that he wears the shirt. We prefer him to wear them on Thursday, but if he wears it on any other day, we look at him and say, “Monday” or “Wednesday”. He always stares at us for a few seconds, until he realizes what we’re referring to. Then he smiles, and says, “You guys are such retards!” That’s his way of saying, “You’re funny, but that is an old joke, and I love you anyway.”

Yes, my brother is weird, eccentric, cool…you name it. He’s Levi. That probably sums it all up. And no matter how weird or eccentric or cool he gets or is, I’ll always love him.