Ok, I just posted that pic up there to the right, the one of 5 of 6 of us. Little brother had not been born yet. Sister stood behind us - she must have been about 16 or so - it was right before her accident. I kind of remember having the pic taken. Daddy had just gotten a new polaroid. We lived in the house on the hill. Kind of said - us against the world. When I see the pic, I can hear Sister saying " I will protect these children "... and she has.

I love that pic - just wish little brother had been in it - I like to pretend he is there in spirit, even if he is still a few more years away.

I started walking about 2 months ago. Just walking. After the first week or so I bought one of the pedometers- such a weird name for such a useful tool. I am now up to 4 miles a day in one walk - overall all through the day I average about 20,000 steps a day. From everything I have read, that is good. My butt and legs are hard as rocks. I have lost about 15 pounds - the goal is 25 - 30. I am down from a size 36 to a size 34 jeans. My feet even feel smaller.
The walk gives me time to think out the day and for Rod and I to line the day up.
We are getting ready for Warrenton, we leave next Monday.
Gotta go walk, I will talk more later.

Spent the past Sunday helping little brother and his move into a new place.

I thought we moved around a lot when I was growing up. I didn't know anyone who moved as much as we did.

As I have aged, I have tried to remain.

Mostly we lived on and around the Brazos River when I was growing up. I live as close to it now as I did then.

Daddy was big on wide open spaces. We always lived in the country. He was big on get-to-gethers, whether in the summer or winter. Always a big to-do on the week-end. Kids sleeping on roll-away beds on the front porch, men folk passed out under the trees in those big metal lawn chairs, women folk sleeping two to a bed inside.

Waiting until we heard the snoring and knew the 'coast was clear' and we could head to the corn fields on the opposite side of the house and play a midnight game of hide and seek. Sneaking a kiss under the moonlight from pig tailed girls.

Sleeping til the smell of sizzling bacon and fresh coffee drifted from the kitchen to the front porch.

There was always enough. Enough room. Enough food. Enough fun. Enough love.

 

I have had this blog for sometime, just never sure what I wanted to say or how to say it. Then figured I would do what I do best, which is ramble.

I grew up on the outskirts of Waco during the 60s and 70s. Momma and Daddy tried the best they could to raise 5 kids.

We became 6 kids in the late 70s, when Momma was in her mid 40s. I remember my older sister, who we called and still call Sister, hit the roof. She was sure she would be left to raise this as yet unborn child because Momma would die in childbirth.

Our then baby sister, who was the baby of the family, pouted for weeks on end when we teased her about not being the Baby any longer.

I don't remember the birth of my youngest brother, but I do remember his birth came on the anniversary of Pearl Harbor and his arrival made 6 kids, 3 boys and 3 girls.

We were like the Brady Bunch, but without the divorce. Though it came close to that many a time. The divorce.

Momma and Daddy are both gone now. All that is left is the 6 of us kids and I guess we are orphans now. It sure feels that way sometimes when I need a lap to lay my head. It's odd how things stick in your mind as comforting, when to the outside world they may appear so strange.

That being said, the sweetest most comforting memory I have with my mother involved laying my head in her lap while she cleaned out my ears with a bobby pin. Weird I know, but the gentleness was beyond measure and in a house of 6 kids, it was a moment that just she and I shared. I didn't have to share it with anyone.

I am the middle son, the middle child of sorts. I have an older sister, the one we call Sister, she is the oldest of the children. Then I have an older brother, for years I called him Bubba, now I call him by his name. Then me. Then a younger sister, born 2 years after and 2 days before me. Then a baby sister, the only child who didn't get a middle name. So, as children we gave her one by repeating her first name twice. Finally, a baby brother. Born 12 years after the baby sister.

I always think he must have felt like an only child. By the time he was in first grade, most all of us had left and moved on with our lives.

When he graduated high school in 1992, Daddy had died. Daddy was born on April fools day and loved playing jokes on kids. He died 2 weeks after his 63rd birthday and almost amonth before baby brother graduated.

We attended his graduation as a family and when he went up to receive his diploma, he kissed it to his lips and held it to the clouds.

Made us all cry.