What would my life be without Southern Brother? Not as rich: less laughter, less love, I wouldn't be an LSU fan, and wouldn't know as much about Cajun food. He wouldn't have had to forgive the offensive acts I have perpetrated, and hopefully will perpetrate in future. I would never have been as good a baseball player. Southern Brother threw much batting practice to me, and I fully used the opportunity to improve my skills. And he coached me.
Southern Brother is one year younger than me. One weekend, when he was 4, he was sick with a cold or something, and prohibited from leaving the house. He sat at the front screen door, rocking in a rocking chair, watching me ride a push scooter in the driveway (handmade, by our beloved Uncle Marvin, with skateboard type of wheels). Southern Brother had some energy which needed burning, and he was rocking big and aggressive. I saw it, and didn't say anything. He toppled backwards. Ouch. I've always felt guilty that I didn't come to the screen door and say: DON'T rock so big! You are close to toppling. Sorry, Southern Brother. You would have listened to my advice, back then!
Southern Brother's house, on the day it snowed in scenic Vermont south Louisiana:
Looking out, from his house, to the roundabout thingy:
Favorite of all my blogposts: Everything I Know About Batting.
Much of what I know was learned from, and discovered in consultation and play with, Southern Brother.
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Now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure it was Southern Brother who forced poor Nancy to perform slave labor and then stare into the sun for a photo. He would deny it, now. That's mighty convenient. I wouldn't believe him.
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2 comments:
Your words are very kind...Thanks
The guilty party of NBD cruelty was none other than the BU beauty herself...Miss Lorrell Hokenson...it is her beer NBD is holding...and she is the one that actually took the picture...cackling and giggling with laughter for an hour
Ah, Miss Hokenson. She had an endearing laugh.
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