Learning to Grill

I’m still learning to grill. It looks simple when someone else is doing it, but when you’re the one standing there, you realize it’s complicated. Lighting the fire, keeping the coals at the right temperature, cooking the food without burning it, managing the smoke.

Every time I try, I think of my older brother Gene. He’s been gone about a decade now, and hopefully he’s off somewhere hanging out with Jimi Hendrix and our older sister Annette, on some other plane. That’s bold as love.

I don’t remember if he bought that old grill or if my mother did, but it became his. He worked it like it meant something, because it did.

He would stand there, calm and patient, flipping chicken with a steady hand. But now I realize it was never about the food. It was one of the few things in his short life that he could own. Another way to take care of the rest of us.

Now, I’ve burned more burgers than I’ve gotten right. I’m not a gourmet chef, but I keep showing up every once in a while, hoping that maybe, maybe I’ll make him proud someday.

So what do you think? Let me know in the comments and check out more at jamesabrown.net.

On that note, I’m James A. Brown. And as always, be well.