THE MEASUREMENT OF A MAN

How do you measure the stature, significance and supremacy of a man? Do you check his bank account, or his net worth? (Lawyers do.) Do you weigh his life’s work or his accomplishments in the world of business? Is he a famous actor, sports figure or entertainer? Does his name appear on buildings, build boards or buses? Can you remember his name better than the members of your own family? Who the heck is he, anyway? Look at the image above. Study it as if a college quiz was forthcoming at the end of this blog. Boxing gloves! He must be a famous boxer, whom you never heard of right? Check out the hairdo, facial hair and shirt. You can find nothing there to give away his identity, right? He was just a regular guy, by all counts.

His name is and was Lewis Chester Brewer, (it should have been Bruster, but he came into the world through a different maternal portal. Darn those maternal portals!) He died in my arms, several years ago, coughing up blood, and gasping for air to the last few seconds of his brief, but efficacious existence.

I walked home from the emergency ward, bloody and dazed from countless failed resuscitation attempts, mindless of my sanguineous, axe-murderer appearance. My only thought was, “How do I tell Jason he no longer has a father?” Lewis married “J”, as we will call her, (thus the name “J Son” for their male child), who already had a daughter by another African-American man. (I am sure you guessed that “J” was a blond-haired, blue-eyed European-American woman, right?) Her parents did not approve and she and Lewis decided to live on the Eastern coast, so they fled San Diego. It was winter, the car broke down in the snow, leaving the couple and “J’s” daughter, stranded in the snow-covered vehicle over night. The severe cold triggered a latent disease called sarcoidosis, in Lewis. It was the beginning of the end for him.

Lewis fed his family by his expert skills as a chef. Unfortunately, inhaling steam, grease and smoke for more than a decade, aggravated his sarcoidosis to the degree that his lungs had to be plugged to stem the bleeding when he coughed. My solution was to hire him as my Assistant Manager at the corporation that employed me. Lewis, however, was more acclimated to physical work, and eventually stepped down to become a line worker, a salesman and customer service representative. He became the best, and was awarded with many accolades and monetary benefits. When he passed, they erected a monumental plaque in his honor. Customers, peers and superiors as well as distant family and friends arrived in San Diego, to pay their final respects and demonstrate their undying love for a great man, brother, son, father and friend.

There was no yard stick, nor measuring tape to calculate the immenseness of love and brotherhood, which Lewis embodied. How do you count the stars? How can you weigh the volume of water in the sea? One fateful cough was all it took to end a legacy. We will never forget the diminutive size and breadth of his great and memorable footprint. We can only aspire to achieve his greatness! And aspire we shall.