My brothers - Day 18

   How come it is that I walk around with all kinds of ideas to write about during the day, yet, when it comes time to start writing, my mind's a blank?

   I grew up in a fantastic family in North Carolina. It was a large family .. and well.. it still is. With a family like mine, there's always a story.

    My parents loved each other. And maybe a good love is not an exciting story. Perhaps a troubled love makes the better story, but their's was a good love story. Dad use to chase Mom through the house threatening to tickle her feet. I still smile when I think of the two of them and their innocent flirting.

   There's my three brothers, each of them perfect in their own ways. I always looked up to my oldest brother. He had courage and chutzpa. He was and is not afraid to stand up to any situation. He played baseball when I was a kid and we would go to the games and watch him and my other brother play ball. They were giants of the local baseball team .. at least to me.

    My middle brother was a fantastic athlete. He was over 6 foot tall in his teens. He had blond hair which he wore in a crew cut, and he had china blue eyes and was built like an Adonis. He was beautiful. He would step to the plate and you could see the outfield back up, not a few steps but by yards. The infield would get nervous, moving about, making ready. They all knew it was coming. Bam! You'd hear the crack of the bat and it was all over because my brother had hit another home run. I can still see his frame stretched out, making contact with the ball, like something you'd see in a "hitting the baseball" illustration.  I treasure my childhood memories of him because he's in heaven now.

     My youngest brother is next older than me. There was nine of us kids. This brother is father earth; he loves gardening. He is all about home and his family. He's a level headed, good counselor whom I was constantly squabbling with when I was a kid; always wanting to be the boss of me. It makes me grin when I think of it.