That being said, one of my strongest memories of my brother did not leave me feeling very loving toward him. It happened at Easter time, probably when I was in first or second grade. Okay, so for Easter we got colored peeps.
No, not marshmallow peeps. I suppose we could have found some of those in our Easter baskets but that’s not what I remember. We got PEEPS, as in baby chicks. Colored baby chicks.
I suppose that wasn’t healthy for the chicks. In fact, the practice of dying them was later halted because it was dangerous to them.
Not half as dangerous as the kids.
Okay, on with the story. I went off to school and Donnie stayed at home with Mom. And the peeps. They probably had names, but I don’t remember that. I also don’t remember what color mine was or what color his was.
Remember how I said that the real danger was the kids? Well, Donnie was playing with his peep and apparently he was a little too rough (he was only three or four years old) and accidentally killed it. I guess he squeezed it too hard or something. But he was very, very, very upset. So Mom put the dead peep in a box and when I got home from school, we dug a hole in the back yard (a real trick — most of our yard was cement) and had a funeral and buried the dead peep.
I think the funeral helped Donnie get over his grief.
In fact, he really enjoyed the funeral.
The next day while I was at school, Donnie strangled my peep. Yeah. He liked that funeral and wanted to have another one. But Mom said no more funerals and threw this dead peep in the garbage.
Donnie. So innocent looking with that little buzz cut.
Sometime later he got his. I was inside, looking out the kitchen window while Mom was cooking dinner. Outside, Donnie was playing with our neighbor, Vincie, who was a year younger than me, and a little more than a year older than Donnie. I remember saying to Mom, “Vincie and Donnie are playing cowboys and bandits.” Mom may have said yes or made some sort of sound or even asked how I knew that. At any rate, I went on to say, “Vincie’s hanging Donnie.”
I think there was a moment’s pause, just a moment, before my Mom dropped her spoon or whatever she was holding and dashed out the back door. No lasting damage, but Donnie did have a rope burn around his neck for quite a while to come.
Yep, that innocent smile and that buzz cut. When he reached high school, he let his hair grow. Really grow.
Now he’s back to the buzz cut but I’m too lazy to scan a more recent picture to include.
Early this morning the news broke that Margaret Thatcher had died. The Iron Maiden was a force to be reckoned with during a large chunk of time. Such a strong woman and one of the first female political role models. I figured that I could add “Death” as a D-word and talk about that.
A few hours later I heard that Annette Funicello had passed as well. Mickey Mouse club and beach movies — she’s was a big part of my early years. Okay, a different type of role model, but still a part of my life.
This evening I added a third name to that list (because they do always seem to come in threes). I called my Dad to ask him my question and he gave me the news that my Uncle Dale had died. He had a rough time lately — he was in chemo but had to stop because he fell and hit his head and needed surgery for that. He was my Mom’s older brother, and around when I was very young but not so much later, moving out of state.
Of course, in the past few years he and I lived in the same state. Yet we usually only saw each other at family gatherings in Pennsylvania. I did have a business trip to Waldorf a few years ago and called him and he took me out to dinner. I feel sad for the remaining brother and sisters, Jack, Kaye, and Goldie, losing two siblings in such a short time.
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