Happy Birthday, Brother

Today is my brother's birthday. He is 46 years old. When we were young, we often celebrated together because my birthday is Friday.

I was on the verge of turning three when he was born, but I vaguely remember when it happened. I recall my mother telling my father she didn't feel well. My grandfather came and got me and took me to their house. I recall talking to my mother over the telephone; it seemed to me she was gone a long time.

And then she came back in time for my birthday with this wailing little thing:

Me and my brother. Don't I look happy?

A newspaper photo of my brother, when, around age 4,
he caught a big fish at the Salem pond during
a fishing rodeo.

My brother at approximately age 7 with his
Christmas toy. Rock 'em Sock 'em Robots.

My mother, my father, me, and my brother at my
wedding in 1983. My brother would have been 17 in
this picture.

My brother this weekend at his daughter's

dance recital; he is in costume for

the daddy daughter dance.

My brother has two children of his own and a stepson; he runs a corporation over in southeast Roanoke. He lives adjacent to the farm where we grew up, where he raises chickens, peacocks, and other birds. He likes to hunt and takes big game hunting trips every year. I don't say it often but I am proud of him.



Happy birthday, Bro!