More Regrets.
Still not to the deepest and most regretful of all of them, but don't lose interest! There are several more to come which may make you wince and/or shake your head.
I regret very much treating my brother like shit most of his young life, and this goes back to the "me-me-me" life I led and am still leading, regretfully, today.
My Mom and Dad were both very industrious people and worked hard until they died - Mom sometimes 2 jobs plus her volunteer work at the hospital in Villa Rica. My Dad, retired after 20 years in the Army, went right to work in "millville", AKA "Fullerville" - a suburb (for lack of a better word) of Villa Rica. There he inhaled cotton dust until it finally killed him in '95. Mom died two years later, after we both had taken a vacation trip to Germany on my USAir employees' pass.
An in-depth entry about my parents is in the works.
But back to my Bro': Because they worked so hard and were gone much of the afternoon and evenings, it fell to me to help with his homework and just generally look after him and make sure he didn't go crawling around underneath the house, where he might have to be dug out later (Sorry, Bro'!).
So those were busy times for me, having to do my own homework, helping him with his, trying to keep up my extra-curricular activities (the high school band, my rock groups, plus working part time), and I'm afraid I began to resent my brother for taking up so much of "my" time!
My girlfriend and I would talk for hours at a time on the phone in the laundry room of the house (I think that phone cord was about 30 feet long), and the poor little guy used to knock on the door and ask for help with a math problem. I'd help, but not without a lot of groaning and sighing.
I think the worst thing I ever did to him (No. I never hit my little brother) was make him go to bed when it was still light outside just to keep him out of my hair so I could talk to my girlfriend in peace.
I also used to scare the hell out of him when I'd put so much wood in that old pot-bellied stove we had, that it turned it red-hot. Our house was what's known as an ante-bellum style and had no insulation in its walls. During bad winters, you could actually see the ice forming on them.
If you follow this blog on a regular basis, you'll recognize a term I use quite frequently: "saving grace".
Well, our father was my brother's saving grace.
I didn't like to fish and hunt, but Skip did, and so he wound up closer to Dad than I was, and I was closer to our Mom, being that we both spoke fluent German and had our homeland in common.
She knew I hated being in the USA. She didn't, but there wasn't a whole lot she could do about it, so about all we had was our memories, and then later, in my 40's, our repeated trips home together through my airline job.
So my brother and I grew up and we look back on those times and laugh, and I am glad about that for him because I could have done some real damage, not knowing how to be a "parent" at age 15. Plus, he's so big he could beat the tee-total shit out of me today!
So, Skip. All is forgiven, I hope?
Better be, Dude's in charge of my funeral/memorial service! LOL!
Speaking of which, it's in my will that I am to be cremated, but that I want my ashes mixed in with dip and salsa and served to everyone who comes to pay their finals, so I'll always be a "part of my beautiful friends!" Awwwwww!
Don't worry! he ain't goin' for it!!!! HA!
Love you, mah Brotha!
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One thing both me and Skip inherited from our folks was their love for animals. "Mr. Ed", our old white mule, whom I taught to gait till we were the envy of Stockmar Road; cats, dogs, pigs we never could slaughter because our Mom named 'em, and all the strays left at our fence because people knew we'd give them a good home.
Hell, Mom used to cook for our critters, and sometimes they ate better than we did! (that was a joke, btw).
Skip and I are glad we got that from our folks, and he has carried on the tradition, I am happy to say. He reads the blog and clicks the below icon to feed the unwanted pets, and I hope you will as well.
Thanks for reading, and if I haven't piqued your interest yet, don't worry. I soon will. *wink, wink, nudge nudge*.
Bill
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I regret very much treating my brother like shit most of his young life, and this goes back to the "me-me-me" life I led and am still leading, regretfully, today.
My Mom and Dad were both very industrious people and worked hard until they died - Mom sometimes 2 jobs plus her volunteer work at the hospital in Villa Rica. My Dad, retired after 20 years in the Army, went right to work in "millville", AKA "Fullerville" - a suburb (for lack of a better word) of Villa Rica. There he inhaled cotton dust until it finally killed him in '95. Mom died two years later, after we both had taken a vacation trip to Germany on my USAir employees' pass.
An in-depth entry about my parents is in the works.
But back to my Bro': Because they worked so hard and were gone much of the afternoon and evenings, it fell to me to help with his homework and just generally look after him and make sure he didn't go crawling around underneath the house, where he might have to be dug out later (Sorry, Bro'!).
So those were busy times for me, having to do my own homework, helping him with his, trying to keep up my extra-curricular activities (the high school band, my rock groups, plus working part time), and I'm afraid I began to resent my brother for taking up so much of "my" time!
My girlfriend and I would talk for hours at a time on the phone in the laundry room of the house (I think that phone cord was about 30 feet long), and the poor little guy used to knock on the door and ask for help with a math problem. I'd help, but not without a lot of groaning and sighing.
I think the worst thing I ever did to him (No. I never hit my little brother) was make him go to bed when it was still light outside just to keep him out of my hair so I could talk to my girlfriend in peace.
I also used to scare the hell out of him when I'd put so much wood in that old pot-bellied stove we had, that it turned it red-hot. Our house was what's known as an ante-bellum style and had no insulation in its walls. During bad winters, you could actually see the ice forming on them.
If you follow this blog on a regular basis, you'll recognize a term I use quite frequently: "saving grace".
Well, our father was my brother's saving grace.
I didn't like to fish and hunt, but Skip did, and so he wound up closer to Dad than I was, and I was closer to our Mom, being that we both spoke fluent German and had our homeland in common.
She knew I hated being in the USA. She didn't, but there wasn't a whole lot she could do about it, so about all we had was our memories, and then later, in my 40's, our repeated trips home together through my airline job.
So my brother and I grew up and we look back on those times and laugh, and I am glad about that for him because I could have done some real damage, not knowing how to be a "parent" at age 15. Plus, he's so big he could beat the tee-total shit out of me today!
So, Skip. All is forgiven, I hope?
Better be, Dude's in charge of my funeral/memorial service! LOL!
Speaking of which, it's in my will that I am to be cremated, but that I want my ashes mixed in with dip and salsa and served to everyone who comes to pay their finals, so I'll always be a "part of my beautiful friends!" Awwwwww!
Don't worry! he ain't goin' for it!!!! HA!
Love you, mah Brotha!
=============================================================
=============================================================
=============================================================
=============================================================
One thing both me and Skip inherited from our folks was their love for animals. "Mr. Ed", our old white mule, whom I taught to gait till we were the envy of Stockmar Road; cats, dogs, pigs we never could slaughter because our Mom named 'em, and all the strays left at our fence because people knew we'd give them a good home.
Hell, Mom used to cook for our critters, and sometimes they ate better than we did! (that was a joke, btw).
Skip and I are glad we got that from our folks, and he has carried on the tradition, I am happy to say. He reads the blog and clicks the below icon to feed the unwanted pets, and I hope you will as well.
Thanks for reading, and if I haven't piqued your interest yet, don't worry. I soon will. *wink, wink, nudge nudge*.
Bill
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