My little brother and I being the first grandkids in our family, everyone usually gathered at our house for Christmas. One year, as we all sat in our basement around the fireplace opening presents with our family, I saw two large boxes covered in wrapping paper. One had my name on it and the other had my brother’s. They were from my grandparents, my dad’s parents, two of the sweetest, most genuine and generous people I have ever known.

My grandparents didn’t have much, but what they did have, they gave to others. These two boxes were the last gifts to be opened. Everyone watched in anticipation as we tore into the paper. When we finally got to the boxes, we could see there were pictures of bicycles on them. But there was a problem. The boxes were empty.

My brother and I were extremely confused. Then, everyone started laughing. Being a few years older, I vaguely understood that there was more to the story than two empty boxes. My brother, on the other hand, didn’t get the joke. He must have thought everyone was laughing at him, as opposed to at the punchline, and he lost his temper, yelling, “I hate you!” at our grandparents and everyone who laughed.

I could feel the mood in the room shift. I can still feel it to this day, the awkward tension his outburst created and the hurt I could sense in my grandparents upon hearing those words.

This was partly my fault. Being the older brother and not knowing any better, I had played a lot of tricks on my little brother over the years. I created games where we would wrap toys in paper and trade back and forth. He would give me my favorite toy of his and I would give him his favorite toy of mine, or at least that’s what I told him would happen. When I opened the gift he gave to me, what was inside was exactly what I had hoped for, most likely some G.I. Joe figure or accessory, or a Transformer or Go-Bot. When he opened the gift I gave to him, however, where he was promised a toy, what he would usually find was a book, and I would laugh. I don’t know how many times we played this game, but it was enough.

So when he opened that empty bicycle box and everyone began laughing, what they didn’t know was that he had been through this before and he didn’t like it at all. He was hurt and angry, just like when I had tricked him so many times prior. Shocked at his reaction, everyone responded differently. My grandparents remained quiet, my parents were embarrassed, my uncle was upset by the seeming ingratitude, and I felt all of it all at once.

When the adults finally got my brother to calm down, they took us into the garage where the bicycles were, fully assembled and ready to ride. What I unconsciously suspected all along was true. My grandparents were not the kind of people to play a cruel joke like giving children, their only grandchildren, empty bicycle boxes for Christmas just to laugh at their expense.

Of course the bicycles were in the garage. It was so obvious in hindsight. I’m sure my brother apologized for his reaction, even if he was made to, but I’m also sure he was as embarrassed after the fact as he was upset prior to seeing his brand new bicycle. I’m also sure that my grandparents forgave him as they would forgive both of us many times over in their lives.

As I said, they were two of the kindest, most gracious and generous people I have ever known. They were hard-working faithful family-oriented folks. Whether they know it or not, I learned a lot from watching them over the years, even if I was unable to show them during their lives. They saw my brother and I make a lot of mistakes, but they always treated us with love.

Oh, and those bicycles were amazing! We got a lot of miles out of them and, I don’t know about my brother, but my bicycle gave me my first real taste of freedom. I’m guessing he had a similar experience because he was usually with me when I would ride miles away from home around lake for fun, or to the tennis courts to play street hockey with the kids from school. We rode together to many places for many years and had many amazing experiences.