When I Was a Kid by William Johnson
When I Was a Kid by William James Johnson
Is it my imagination or did we have more fun and adventure when we were kids? As the oldest in a family of five boys and three sisters, I was expected to be sure the young ones never got into any serious trouble. I came close to witnessing a potential murder between my brother Bob, and our third sibling Bruce. Bruce was given the task of watering mom's garden which, normally would have been done without an event taking place. I guess Bruce was in one of his crazy moods, and armed with a high powered hose, suddenly got the urge to include Bob in the watering. I should mention Bob was the largest boy in the family, raised on breast milk, while I was given life saving Carnation milk. Even to this day, I gag when I see that red and white can.
Sorry, I didn't mean to leave Bob soaked to the skin, rushing after Bruce's physical future. He rushed at the smaller lad, intent on doing him serious harm. Bruce had no other choice but wack Bob on the head hard enough to break a brass nozzle, and open a serious gash in Bob's skull. Have you ever seen a steady stream of blood pouring out of a wound all over one's clothes. As kids say now it was awsome.
Bruce threw the remains of the hose at Bob's feet, and made a thundering escape down the alley followed by the injured brother screaming at me.
"Get that son of a .....And let me hurt him. Christ I can't stop the bleeding."
I took off my shirt and wrapped it around his wound. Bruce stayed at a friend's house for a couple of days. Bob survived and dad blamed me for not stopping it. He convinced me with his belt.
This was not one of those days when we were having a lot of fun. Bruce was the first to die in our family, at 57, of alcoholism. But there were a lot of fun times. I'll tell you more later.
Is it my imagination or did we have more fun and adventure when we were kids? As the oldest in a family of five boys and three sisters, I was expected to be sure the young ones never got into any serious trouble. I came close to witnessing a potential murder between my brother Bob, and our third sibling Bruce. Bruce was given the task of watering mom's garden which, normally would have been done without an event taking place. I guess Bruce was in one of his crazy moods, and armed with a high powered hose, suddenly got the urge to include Bob in the watering. I should mention Bob was the largest boy in the family, raised on breast milk, while I was given life saving Carnation milk. Even to this day, I gag when I see that red and white can.
Sorry, I didn't mean to leave Bob soaked to the skin, rushing after Bruce's physical future. He rushed at the smaller lad, intent on doing him serious harm. Bruce had no other choice but wack Bob on the head hard enough to break a brass nozzle, and open a serious gash in Bob's skull. Have you ever seen a steady stream of blood pouring out of a wound all over one's clothes. As kids say now it was awsome.
Bruce threw the remains of the hose at Bob's feet, and made a thundering escape down the alley followed by the injured brother screaming at me.
"Get that son of a .....And let me hurt him. Christ I can't stop the bleeding."
I took off my shirt and wrapped it around his wound. Bruce stayed at a friend's house for a couple of days. Bob survived and dad blamed me for not stopping it. He convinced me with his belt.
This was not one of those days when we were having a lot of fun. Bruce was the first to die in our family, at 57, of alcoholism. But there were a lot of fun times. I'll tell you more later.
posted by William Johnson | 3:12 p.m.
1 Comments:
Wow. Is that what they mean by 'brotherly love?' Actually, that appears to be what brothers do, annoy the hell out of each other. At some point, usually, they grow out of it, and form strong fraternal bonds as I now have with my own brother.
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