Together, my parents faced two world wars, the great depression, floods, fires, and some things that would bring most people to their knees. Imagine just where I would be if they had just decided that things were too rough and chucked in the towel. At the time, I didn’t think they had a lot to give.
But looking back, I’m amazed at how much I got.
steak’s what I wanted
bologna is what I got—
never went hungry
Tag: Family
~Who Knew~
Back when I was a child,
they said I was poor,
but I did not know it.
Until one of my teachers pointed at me and said,
it’s okay for you to show it,
and that you have no cause for shame.
I should have asked her then,
but my mind didn’t comprehend,
and to this day I still think about what message
she was trying to send.
Ashamed of what— I never knew,
so I lived my childhood
without a clue.
Maybe there was something,
or someone I should blame.
But I was never one to follow the rules of the game.
I just smiled and said okay,
then I walked out to join my friends,
on the playground’s monkey bars.
I was the king of the monkey bars,
and I was not ashamed of that either.
~Outdated~
I am not made for these modern times
Missouri mud runs through my veins
unspoiled country air flows through my lungs.
my roots are intertwined in the bedrock of culture,
traditions and folklore of a pioneer Midwest
My heart beats with the rhythm
of wind through oak trees
the sway of golden wheat
the steady fall of summer rain
on metal porch roofs
My voice is the sound
of pickup trucks on gravel roads
tractors plowing through gumbo
the hoot of owls from leaning red barns.
the yip of foxes or the howl of coyotes from
across green pastures under full moon’s glow
trumpeting of a rooster greeting the day
songs of blue jays, cardinals, red wing blackbirds
caw of crows pecking through early snow
on harvested corn fields
beat of horse hooves
lazy bawling of cows
My nostril are filled with the smell of
wildflower meadows, fresh baled hay
alfalfa, soybeans, and apple blossoms
I am lightning bugs on summer’s eve
coon hounds asleep on sunlit porches
family picnics on red checkered tablecloths
horseshoes, freeze tag and kick the can
I am unlocked doors and open windows
rocking chairs and back porch swings
I am outdated
Happy Birthday to My Oldest Son…
Joshua – 1977…
You probably don’t remember that day. Even for me it now seems like it was another universe. It was your first birthday. We called Fort Ord California home and, as it was with most Army families, we were as penniless as the winos down along the banks of the Salinas River. Your mother baked you a chocolate cake from a .29 cent box mix and decorated it with some homemade icing. We stripped you down to your diaper and sat you in your highchair while we sang birthday songs to you. You laughed as you crumbled your cake into oblivion.
All Aboard…
It made no difference if it was a family vacation or headed to the grocery store, my mother would plan it out to the smallest detail, barking out instruction that would make any Drill Sergeant proud, while my dad checked the tires and looked under the hood. Seating arrangements created to resolve sibling conflict; snack strategically placed within her reach.
“Anyone need to go to the bathroom?”
“Everybody have their purses, money, comb?”
“Last chance because once we start moving, we aint stopping.”
After about fifteen minutes into the trip, “Shoot Arlie, I think I left the coffee pot on.”
Jerry Brotherton 