Page 46 - Firehouse Pond

In my opinion, and it is not just my opinion; if you open a dictionary to the

word patriot you should see a portrait of my brother. His story is that of a
hard-working and caring person. He loved his country and often expressed
his desire to have served in the military.

There is one not so little situation that prevented him from joining. He was
blind in one eye. He and our sister were shooting slingshots; she missed
everything but his eye. Do not feel sorry for him; he would reject your

sorrow.

Hard as it may have been, he lived a picture book life. He married his high

school sweetheart. My brother celebrated our nation’s birthday and their
anniversary each Fourth of July, until her untimely death.

Each year, he hosted a “come-one-come-all” picnic and fireworks display to
honor their marriage and our country. People came from across the road and
from miles around. His fireworks were a work of love and a sight to behold.

Perhaps, and I’d like to think, he served in another and just as important way.
You see, he made me feel that I was serving for both of us. It was not a
burden; it was an honor.

My brother’s night of fireworks is talked about to this very day. It was a
picnic, a night of lights, and a celebration all rolled into one.

One of my brother’s favorite songs was The Old Rugged Cross by Johnny
Cash.

My words of remembrance are truly inadequate. To honor him, I’ve included
my brother’s story as personally told by him.

I miss you, Butch.