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I am blessed to have one brother left to share the many beautiful memories of childhood. My parents had three boys and a girl. My two older brothers are home with the Lord and my youngest brother lives approximately thirteen hundred miles from me. I see him once a year but overall I consider myself richly blessed. I love my kid brother dearly. When we get together for our yearly visit, we enjoy reminiscing about bygone days. Ah! Those were the days.
We grew up during the Second World War. According to some, we were considered poor, but to us we were truly wealthy. We had wonderful parents, clothes to put on and shoes for our feet as well as food for our bellies. My older brother Richard was leader of the pack. Next came myself and last was my kid brother Bob. My oldest brother Harry, also called Tinker by my parents had passed away when he was three months old. We never knew him except for what our mother told us after we had grown. Times were a little rough but we had so much fun being kids and enjoying life.
As the three of us grew, we played together or played tricks on each other. Life was not boring and the three musketeers had many wonderful and exciting adventures. We played outside for the most part but on rainy days, we like most kids of that era were under our mother’s feet. Mom was a saint when the three of us got as she put it, like Warpy of the Indians. We were wild and boisterous. Full of energy and we vexed our poor mother until she was just about insane with three balls of energy in the house.
My brothers would pick on me constantly. I was the only girl and I was fair game for boyish pranks. I was the middle child and a girl to boot. When my oldest brother went to work part time my kid brother took up Richard’s mantle and caused me so much grief. I’ve often wondered if they did not conspire about what to do to get me upset. Mom was referee during those times and she would give each of us a swat because as she put it she did not know who did what to whom.
I have so many wonderful memories from my childhood with my two brothers. Where one was, the other two were. We caused mom so much grief and got into so much trouble. I remember one instance so clearly. My younger brother Bob and I were upstairs jumping from the headboard down onto the mattress and having a gay old time. All of a sudden the slats supporting the innersprings and mattress broke. Oh how painful the memory. We ended up getting our butts paddled for breaking the slats. Dad had to go to the lumber store and buy new slats to fix the bed. Back then beds had slats to support the springs and mattress. The headboards were very high and to kids it became like the trampolines of today.
After we were grown, we used to reminisce about the good old days. We often wondered how mom came out of the experience still sane. It wasn’t any wonder her hair turned gray. She truly earned every one of them from three very boisterous, loud, energetic kids whose imagination knew no limits.
After we were grown my two brothers became more than brothers. We were friends as well as siblings. Life growing up during the Great War may have been hard but to us it was truly an adventure. My brothers were loved and I can still tell my kid brother how special he is to his one and only older sister.
God I thank you for my siblings.
They are wonderful gifts sent from above.
We filled each other’s lives with joy and laughter
as well as sharing Your gift of pure sweet love.
Brothers or sisters it mattered not as
long as with each other we shared.
Together we learned the lessons of life and
for each other’s well-being, we truly cared.
Lord, I pray all thank You for their siblings.
I pray they are entwined within each other’s heart.
I will always praise You for my siblings
because that is the best place for this child to start.
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