Tag: Family

Let’s name him Jerry…

On By Jerry BrothertonIn Non Fiction, Short Stories2 Comments

A whisper into my mother’s ear by my fifteen year old brother Lawrence ‘Dean’ and she proclaimed me Jerry Wayne Brotherton. Old English in origin; a diminutive form of Gerald (The Ruling Spear).

In 1941, 1.3 percent of the population held the prestigious name. But for some reason, with World War II came the nickname for German soldiers…Jerries. Starting a downward slide that nearly drove the name to extinction and it’s never recovered.

I was born 16 years after the name peaked in popularity. Setting the tone for what would become my life’s motto…a day late and a dollar short.

Memorial Day

On By Jerry BrothertonIn flash, Short Stories2 Comments

Memorial Day –

The picnic tables that held all the food were covered with red and white. We lazed about on blankets scattered around the cool grass covered yard. We drank ice cold beer, sweet tea and lemonade and devoured the watermelon, ice cream, Momma’s apple pie and fried chicken. Some of younger ones even napped in the cool shade of the trees. We caught up on lost time with family and watched the children play on the same playground equipment I knew as a kid. Across the street, an impromptu ball game started. They were soon joined by strangers from other families celebrating the day. Although in our quiet little part of the world, even strangers are family.

Earlier that day I had watched the parade pass down Main Street. I paid little attention to the elderly soldiers feebly moving along in their ancient uniforms and carrying flags from wars long gone. I was more interested in the kids chasing down the candy being tossed from vehicles whose signs I failed to read.

As the sun fell low on the horizon, and we strolled back to the car, I glance around at the serenity of the day. I realize that at least, I understood the question; even if I didn’t yet know the answer.

Could I be like those old men; willing to lay down my life to preserve this?

As I walked hand in hand with you down the tree lined street, laughter and singing drifting into the clear sky, I looked into your eyes and my heart beat out the answer.

May 1st 1957

On By Jerry BrothertonIn Non Fiction, Short Stories5 Comments

It was 51 degrees in Carrollton, Missouri when I took my first breath that began this incredible journey called life. Although I have no recollection of the first 4 years of it, so I can safely say that in my mind, my life started on one warm spring day…you know what, let’s save that for another time.

It just took a little bit of one finger typing into Google to easily bring me up to speed on those early years. It was 8.40 PM on Wednesday when doctor Everett L. Smith slapped me on the ass and proclaimed me a healthy baby boy. By that miracle of childbirth, I took my place in the world as the 7th son and the 14th child born to Arlie and Sylvia Brotherton. At least that’s the official information from my birth certificate, but there will be countless times over the course of the next twenty years or so that I will swear that I was adopted.

My Zodiac sign is Taurus (the bull headed), ruled by Venus (beauty and creativity). My mythical Animal is the (Rooster), my life Path is #1; supposedly that makes me a born leader who insists on making up my own mind and demanding freedom of thoughts and actions. My birth stone is emerald, my flower is the Lily of the Valley and my perfect match, January 7th, 1961.

According to the internet, my psychological profile says I am bound to think, study, reflect and develop inner wisdom. In a past life, sometime around 950AD, it seems that I might have been a judge in France. My strengths were the talent to understand ancient texts, magical abilities and perhaps I might have been a servant of the dark forces.

In this life though, to my family, I was merely the fourteenth competitor for the attention of my parents. To the rest of the world an ordinary baby boy, nothing more than just another name among the 279,640 children born on that day.

Mike and Henry

On By Jerry BrothertonIn flash, Short Stories4 Comments

Mikey and ‘River Rat’ had been friends since 3rd grade. From grade school through high school they had shared everything. You hardly ever saw one without the other being too far away. But after graduation, Mikey went off to college while ‘River Rat’ moved on to do life’s little things just to try to keep from starving. ‘River Rat’ didn’t dig the college scene because, in his words, “I just can’t understand the need to go into debt for the rest of my life to get a little piece of paper with some snooty guy’s signature on it. Just to proclaim me smarter than someone else.” But in truth, Mikey knew that it was because ‘River Rat was more in tune with a bottle of beer than he was with books.

A year later, ‘River Rat’ was requested to join the Army. By the luck of the draw, he missed Vietnam and ended up in Germany for a couple of years before coming back home. In the Army, ‘River Rat’ became Specialist Henry Bowman and had learned how to stay out of people’s way. He also learned that it was a pretty small leap from beer to whisky and even a shorter step to drugs.

As his youth faded away, he eventually got a job as the maintenance man for the local cemetery where he grew marijuana in the woods behind the back wall. His name changed to just Henry and then Mr. Bowman as, over the course of the next few years, he faded into the everyday life of another rural Midwesterner.

Mikey went on to graduate college at the top of his class and moved on to Law School where he became Michael Schmidt. He ended up in Kansas City where he worked hard to become a partner in the law firm Lindsey, Graves, Schmidt and Leland. He married a model from the city and when he did visit home, she sat beside him in his Porsche 911 as he paraded her through town like some trophy he’d won at the carnival.

Over the years, Michael and Henry drifted so far apart that they no longer recognized each other if they should happen to pass on the street.

One day, the police got a call about the smell coming from the apartment. When they busted down the door, the groceries were still sitting on the kitchen counter. A gallon of milk, a loaf of bread, a box of aspirins and a 12 roll pack of Charmin. A note beside them read, “Don’t try to find me.” They found a box knife in the bathroom next to the body. They never found his wife.

‘River Rat’, his wife and their three children were the only people to show up at Mike’s funeral.

Happy Mother’s Day Moms

On By Jerry BrothertonIn Non Fiction, Short Stories2 Comments

I’ve said this a thousand times and still I can never say it enough. Being a mother is the hardest and most thankless job there is and yet they do it for free.

In my mother’s eyes, “the needs of the family would always outweigh the needs of the one.” After all the bills were paid, the groceries bought and safely stored away in their larders, you might see her in the store, eyeing that new dress, or new pair of shoes or whatever items that she would have like to have. She would even go so far as to pick it up, turn it over in her hands and possibly even put it in her cart. But by the time she left the store, it would still be setting on the shelf. Because, in her words she could get by with what she had. Besides, one of the kids might need something between now and next payday.

I think that most mothers are pretty much the same. So this is why we have a special day set aside just for them. So pick up the phone, give them a call. They don’t want fancy presents or flowers. They just want you to tell them you love them.

Trust me one day you’ll wake up and find that there’s no phones in heaven.