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In the days of my youth, which at this point seems like eons ago (It was only many decades) my older brother, Jack, had a temper of huge proportions. At the slightest opportunity when Mom wasn't looking he would pounce on me and begin flailing at me with flashing fists. Of course I was innocent of any untoward methods of provoking him. (Sure I was) At any rate, it was normal for me to burst into gales of tears and sobs even though sometimes he hadn't touched me. I knew he would attack at the slightest provocation so I usually started early to minimize my pain. It didn't do any good, he beat up on me 
regardless. This was a part of my growing up although, questionably it may account for the fact I never grew beyond 5'7 inches. My grandmother always called him Mickey for some unknown reason. We also had a dog named Mickey but I was an adult before I drew an anology between the two. Jack had joined the CCC, a conservation organization created by Franklin Roosevelt to help alleviate the depression through which our country was immersed. He was gone before I went into my end of the service and I assumed I might not see him again. However, it appeared he had a broken ear drum (No it was not part of my retribution) and came home about the time I went into the Navy. When the family was reunited three years later and we were all together again, it was amazing what a nice guy he turned out to be. He and his wife Betty would come over to our home and have dinner with us and he would help me with different projects and we would work side by side. One time he spent an entire day while we wheelbarrowed load after load of top soil from an empty lot behind our home. I remember one night he found a harp from an up right piano in the middle of our living room and asked what it was doing there. I replied "Its rotting" but that's a different story which shall be told ere long. After Betty died, he was a more frequent visitor and I grew to have a great appreciation for my brother. He died in a car crash a few years later and I never had a chance to remind him of the other Mickey I had known who was our dog. Jack was one of the good guys and I still miss my brother , even after all these 40 years or more.
regardless. This was a part of my growing up although, questionably it may account for the fact I never grew beyond 5'7 inches. My grandmother always called him Mickey for some unknown reason. We also had a dog named Mickey but I was an adult before I drew an anology between the two. Jack had joined the CCC, a conservation organization created by Franklin Roosevelt to help alleviate the depression through which our country was immersed. He was gone before I went into my end of the service and I assumed I might not see him again. However, it appeared he had a broken ear drum (No it was not part of my retribution) and came home about the time I went into the Navy. When the family was reunited three years later and we were all together again, it was amazing what a nice guy he turned out to be. He and his wife Betty would come over to our home and have dinner with us and he would help me with different projects and we would work side by side. One time he spent an entire day while we wheelbarrowed load after load of top soil from an empty lot behind our home. I remember one night he found a harp from an up right piano in the middle of our living room and asked what it was doing there. I replied "Its rotting" but that's a different story which shall be told ere long. After Betty died, he was a more frequent visitor and I grew to have a great appreciation for my brother. He died in a car crash a few years later and I never had a chance to remind him of the other Mickey I had known who was our dog. Jack was one of the good guys and I still miss my brother , even after all these 40 years or more.
1 comment:
This is great info to know.
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