On your left is Jake, on the right is Josephine and there in the middle is little old me. I must have been almost a year old there. See the loaded hayrack in the back? That means it was harvest and the year was 1942 in the fall, right before my birthday. Jake and I were born 4 years and 4 days apart.
I do not know how he came to be known as "Jake", but I do not ever remember calling him Delbert. He was kicked in the face by a horse named "Star" when he was 9 or 10. I recall when my father brought that horse home one night. It was late. It was dark and he was drunk. And mother was pissed. In all fairness, Star was not a horse, but a Shetland Pony and Shetland Ponies were mean by nature. Star nearly kicked the side out of the trailer before he even got unloaded.
It was just wonderful having a pony! I say that with the utmost sarcasm, because to the best of my knowledge no one ever rode that pony. No one ever petted that pony. We fed him. We fed him a lot! I lived in mortal terror of being bit by those big yellow teeth. I think in the back of my mind I know that Dad was a gambling man as well as a drinking man and he won that horse in a poker game. Not real sure who the winner was in that deal, but it is what it is and we had a horse from hell for a pet.
I was trying to tell you about my brother and I see I got side tracked. Life does that to me a LOT. So, I only had the one brother growing up and it was Jake. He snuck off to join the Army when he was 16. He crossed off the date of his birth which was 1937 and wrote in 1935. Of course, since the recruiting officer was neither blind nor stupid, he took one look at Jake, whose face was covered with peach fuzz since he was not old enough to shave, and called mother. He did join the Army 2 years later. He served in Germany. He came home, fell in love and got married. Got divorced and got married again. Got separated and searched for happiness where ever he could find it.
Some where out in this cold cruel world are 2 sons of his. Mother kept in touch with the oldest and we never heard anything of the youngest. That lady moved to Missouri. I will probably go to my grave not knowing what became of them, but so it goes. On the day Jake died, my middle daughter, Dona Marie turned 1 year old. Sam was 26 days old. That was a dark time in my life and we know how those times affect us later down the road.
On October 29, he and a friend were coming home from work on country roads. They ran a stop sign and hit the side of a loaded gravel truck on the highway. I do not know who was driving. I do not want to know. I saw him that night in McPherson Hospital. He was unconscious. He died the next morning.
On October 29, he and a friend were coming home from work on country roads. They ran a stop sign and hit the side of a loaded gravel truck on the highway. I do not know who was driving. I do not want to know. I saw him that night in McPherson Hospital. He was unconscious. He died the next morning.
I like to think I have put my dark times behind me, but I haven't. Hopefully I am dealing with this better then I used to. There was a time when October 5th entailed a bottle of whiskey and a beer chaser, but I have not done that for years. And since I am dealing with my new reality, I am going to look back on his birthday as a cause for celebration. So here goes:
He was born and he held my hand while I learned to walk. He taught me to ride a bike. He hit me in the head with a turnip when I was very small. He went to the Army and wrote me every week. He sent me a Brownie Camera from Germany. We listened to the Grand Ole Opry on a car radio on Saturday nights. He introduced me to my first husband, the father of my children. He died, but he never left my thoughts.
I had a brother. My life would not have been complete without him and today I celebrate that God gave me the most wonderful brother in the world, Delbert Leroy Bartholomew, known to the rest of the world as "Shakey Jake!" Some day I will see him again and he will be in that same pair of overalls and hopefully Hank Williams will be picking on his guitar.
If he had lived, what would his life have been? I know he joined the church just 2 weeks before he died. I know his friend who was in the truck with him, Johnny Rogers passed away the day after we buried Jake.
If he had lived, what would his life have been? I know he joined the church just 2 weeks before he died. I know his friend who was in the truck with him, Johnny Rogers passed away the day after we buried Jake.
Rest in Peace in the arms of Jesus, my beloved!
No comments:
Post a Comment