June 19th is both Father’s Day and my Brother, Elbert’s birthday. He was born at home in Spencer, Iowa on June 19th, 1929 and named Elbert James A. I’ll observe the day by telephoning Mary, his wife and sharing memories of him with her. We haven’t saved our memories of him to recall on a special day; we speak of him often in our frequent phone conversations.
During the night that Elbert was born, I woke up and thought I heard my mother calling. I opened my bedroom door and got as far as the curtain hanging at the end of the hallway. As I pushed the curtain aside, my father quickly put his hands on my shoulders and gently turned me around and said I should go back to bed. He assured me everything was fine.
The next morning Mom, who was still in bed, told me I had a new baby brother and if I looked in the carriage near the bed I could see him. It was an old fashioned wicker buggy, high off the floor with a dome like bonnet covering half the buggy. I couldn’t see the baby so I pressed down on the handle bars and tipped the buggy for a better look. As I did so, a pillow slipped out of the buggy onto the floor and the baby, wrapped in a blanket, was nestled on top. Fortunately, the baby wasn’t hurt and I was allowed to hold him for a few moments.
I loved to tease him by calling him “kissy lips”. He’d grin and we’d laugh about the toddler story Mom loved to tell. She had finished giving him a bath one morning, but hadn’t dressed him yet. While she was draining the tub, he ran out the front screen door and down the street, naked as a jay bird. Workmen making repairs on the roof yelled for Mom to let her know. Mrs. Jones, our neighbor two houses away, picked him up and carried him home. Mrs. Jones thought Elbert was the ‘cutest’ thing and that he had the “prettiest kissy lips”.
It was about this time that Elbert learned to cuss. Dad was busy working on the dining room chandelier, his tool box on the floor at the foot of the ladder. Elbert would pick up a tool and walk away with it. Dad kept ordering Elbert to leave the tools alone, but Elbert paid no attention. Dad became frustrated when Elbert wouldn’t leave the tools alone, and I can still hear Dad saying, “Hell’s Fire”. That expression soon gave way to, “God Damn!” It wasn’t long before Dad let out a, “God damn son of a bitch!” Mom yelled from the kitchen, “PLEASE, NOT IN FRONT OF THE CHILDREN!” Elbert said, “Doddamsombit” and proceeded to repeat the phrase over and over as he ran around the house. He continued using this expression all his life, but Dad eventually gave up swearing and we rarely heard him curse in later life.
Elbert had Mom and Dad’s blue eyes and dark hair. He had the same facial features as Dad and Grandpa A. As Elbert aged, he looked more and more like the two of them. I once did a drawing of Dad from memory and when it was finished, the drawing looked more like Elbert than Dad.
Elbert was industrious as all my brothers were. When he was quite small, he agreed to pull weeds for a neighbor in exchange for a fishing rod. Our family and several aunts and uncles planned a joint camping-fishing trip and Elbert was excited about having a rod of his own to use. The neighbor really took advantage of him by insisting he finish weeding, even as the paraphernalia for the trip was being stowed in the vehicles. At the last moment, they gave him the rod, but it was broken. Never the less, Elbert was excited when he was allowed to join those in the boat and fish with his own rod. As it turned out, he was the only one to catch a fish that day. The fish was not very big, but it was cooked especially for him.
I have many treasured moments of the fun times we spent together, during WWII, the many dinners in San Francisco’s China Town, and browsing the shops before his reporting in at the barracks at the bottom of the hill. He looked so handsome in the sailor type uniform belonging to the merchant marine program he was in. We used to also enjoy frequent dinners at various restaurants in Los Angels when he worked construction with an uncle on the first Disney Land Park in Anaheim, Calif. Afterward, we’d drive side by side on the freeway, him in his red convertible, me in my blue one, until he came to his exit. We’d toot our horns and Elbert would give me a debonair wave as he turned off the freeway and headed home, and I continued on to my place.
I have many more stories to write about Elbert. He was truly a special person and I was blessed to have him for my brother. He was forever kind and generous to me and I know my affection was returned. Elbert didn’t like his name and preferred his nickname. Unfortunately, I was known by the same nickname. Mom, Dad, brothers and sisters used our real names, but everyone else, our spouses, friends and co-workers knew and used our nicknames. Since we didn’t live near each other, there was never a conflict. When I talked to him on the phone I always called him Elbert. One day I received a letter from Mary. Elbert had scribbled a line telling me to not call him Elbert any more! I sat down and wrote this poem to him.
During the night that Elbert was born, I woke up and thought I heard my mother calling. I opened my bedroom door and got as far as the curtain hanging at the end of the hallway. As I pushed the curtain aside, my father quickly put his hands on my shoulders and gently turned me around and said I should go back to bed. He assured me everything was fine.
The next morning Mom, who was still in bed, told me I had a new baby brother and if I looked in the carriage near the bed I could see him. It was an old fashioned wicker buggy, high off the floor with a dome like bonnet covering half the buggy. I couldn’t see the baby so I pressed down on the handle bars and tipped the buggy for a better look. As I did so, a pillow slipped out of the buggy onto the floor and the baby, wrapped in a blanket, was nestled on top. Fortunately, the baby wasn’t hurt and I was allowed to hold him for a few moments.
I loved to tease him by calling him “kissy lips”. He’d grin and we’d laugh about the toddler story Mom loved to tell. She had finished giving him a bath one morning, but hadn’t dressed him yet. While she was draining the tub, he ran out the front screen door and down the street, naked as a jay bird. Workmen making repairs on the roof yelled for Mom to let her know. Mrs. Jones, our neighbor two houses away, picked him up and carried him home. Mrs. Jones thought Elbert was the ‘cutest’ thing and that he had the “prettiest kissy lips”.
It was about this time that Elbert learned to cuss. Dad was busy working on the dining room chandelier, his tool box on the floor at the foot of the ladder. Elbert would pick up a tool and walk away with it. Dad kept ordering Elbert to leave the tools alone, but Elbert paid no attention. Dad became frustrated when Elbert wouldn’t leave the tools alone, and I can still hear Dad saying, “Hell’s Fire”. That expression soon gave way to, “God Damn!” It wasn’t long before Dad let out a, “God damn son of a bitch!” Mom yelled from the kitchen, “PLEASE, NOT IN FRONT OF THE CHILDREN!” Elbert said, “Doddamsombit” and proceeded to repeat the phrase over and over as he ran around the house. He continued using this expression all his life, but Dad eventually gave up swearing and we rarely heard him curse in later life.
Elbert had Mom and Dad’s blue eyes and dark hair. He had the same facial features as Dad and Grandpa A. As Elbert aged, he looked more and more like the two of them. I once did a drawing of Dad from memory and when it was finished, the drawing looked more like Elbert than Dad.
Elbert was industrious as all my brothers were. When he was quite small, he agreed to pull weeds for a neighbor in exchange for a fishing rod. Our family and several aunts and uncles planned a joint camping-fishing trip and Elbert was excited about having a rod of his own to use. The neighbor really took advantage of him by insisting he finish weeding, even as the paraphernalia for the trip was being stowed in the vehicles. At the last moment, they gave him the rod, but it was broken. Never the less, Elbert was excited when he was allowed to join those in the boat and fish with his own rod. As it turned out, he was the only one to catch a fish that day. The fish was not very big, but it was cooked especially for him.
I have many treasured moments of the fun times we spent together, during WWII, the many dinners in San Francisco’s China Town, and browsing the shops before his reporting in at the barracks at the bottom of the hill. He looked so handsome in the sailor type uniform belonging to the merchant marine program he was in. We used to also enjoy frequent dinners at various restaurants in Los Angels when he worked construction with an uncle on the first Disney Land Park in Anaheim, Calif. Afterward, we’d drive side by side on the freeway, him in his red convertible, me in my blue one, until he came to his exit. We’d toot our horns and Elbert would give me a debonair wave as he turned off the freeway and headed home, and I continued on to my place.
I have many more stories to write about Elbert. He was truly a special person and I was blessed to have him for my brother. He was forever kind and generous to me and I know my affection was returned. Elbert didn’t like his name and preferred his nickname. Unfortunately, I was known by the same nickname. Mom, Dad, brothers and sisters used our real names, but everyone else, our spouses, friends and co-workers knew and used our nicknames. Since we didn’t live near each other, there was never a conflict. When I talked to him on the phone I always called him Elbert. One day I received a letter from Mary. Elbert had scribbled a line telling me to not call him Elbert any more! I sat down and wrote this poem to him.
I’m too much myself
If I’m called Elbert,
I ask you not to use that name.
“What’s in a name?”
“A rose would smell as sweet
By any other”*
Is this a game to pick and choose?
To nick a name for part of self,
The rest of self to lose?
E is for an ancient King
J for family past, yet of our time
No legend, myth or mask enfold
These names
But History, Truth and Honor, all contain
What whim of self to own a name
You will not use
There are no laurels lost or gained
If ‘E. J doesn’t suit, or be too plain
Be this a puzzle or a game,
Will you believe
My heart remembers
Will not forget
I love an Elbert without regret.
1 comment:
I loved reading your story about Elbert. You have such a fantastic way of writing. Your poem was also, so very nice. Thanks again, for sharing....
Post a Comment