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Posts Tagged ‘brother’

ed-phy-w-by-carThis is a photo of my brother, Edward (on the left) and myself, the girl on the right.   This poem is very close to the true story  of his NOT teaching me how to drive. 

 
WHY I NEVER LEARNED TO DRIVE
(And Probably Never Will)

I never learned to drive a car
And often wondered why
No one took the time to teach
This girl, once young and shy

Could it be that awful story
My brother used to tell
About the day he tried to teach . . .
Comparing it to Hell

First I hit the chicken coop
With quite a thunderous clap
And both of us then ended up
With chickens in our lap

While fighting clouds of feathers
I backed into a tree
I didn’t do much damage then
But Ed was mad at me

And then I hit the garden fence
In panic, as I slid
I just said, “They never should
Have put it where they did”

In backing up I spun the tires
And spumes of dust arose
Then as I freed the tires, I braked
And poor Ed bumped his nose

The cow was watching all that time
With look of such surprise
Until I almost hit her rump
Then terror filled her eyes

Ed jerked the wheel just in time
By now, his eyes were wide
As I drove onto the hilltop
And down the other side

Ed jammed his foot onto the brake
And stopped upon a dime
For traffic on the highway there
Was busy at that time

He told me to get out, right then
And walk back up the hill
While he mopped his bloody nose
And spoke with such a chill

He never took me out again
And it made me rather sad
Because no one else would either . . .
But I think the cow was glad

Phyllis VanVleck . . . 9/25/01

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    DIPPING INTO THE PAST

 

 

The camaraderie was very meaningful

between my younger brother and myself..

We were raised during the Great Depression

and we made our own fun, as other children

did, sharing what little we had. Boredom

was never in our vocabulary.

 

One Christmas there was a pair of roller

skates, for he and I to share, and sometimes

we each wore a skate as we raced downhill

with the joyous freedom of childhood.

 

There were newspaper kites to send flying,

made from Sunday’s colorful comics,

balsa wood, and a tail of knotted

lisle stockings. With a little adjustment

they soared like eagles on a thermal flow.

 

Simple objects were the source of summer

fun, such as stilts and our tin-can walking

cleats. The stilts made us feel very daring

and brave, but we loved the sound of those noisy

cleats as they clickity-clacked on the sidewalk.

We thought the noise was simply delicious.

 

Our tree house was an exciting adventure.

Making it was more fun than using it,

but we had great picnics up there all summer,

with the welcome mat out for everyone.

Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches tasted

so much better up there, than anywhere.

The tree provided our desert in season,

as we’d reach out the window for fresh mulberries.

 

Winter wasn’t left out in our home-made

fun. A toboggan made of sheet tin and saplings

gave us many hours of snowy enjoyment.

Sliding downhill with the wind in our faces,

until the cold made us go inside for a warm-up.

 

Sadly, my brother left this world when barely

out of his teens, leaving a huge empty

spot in my life. But he lives on in memory,

racing down the sidewalk with those shared roller

skates. Running down hill with kites flying

behind us. Making noise with tin-can cleats clinging

to our shoes as we clanked down the sidewalk.

Treasured memories of a beloved brother.

 

 

9/6/95         Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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