With just a little coaxing I can remember when
Excitement ruled my early days when you'd come home again.
I was a boy, just seven or eight and you were fully grown.
And it was a very special time when "Brother" would come home.
You and your special Mildred, The two of you and "Wart"---
You see, I can't remember the three of you apart.
Since you were up and married before I was ever born,
I can't remember all the things that happened on the farm.
But, things I do remember -- I can remember well --
Like the gifts you brought at Christmas none others could excel. –
Like the places you would take us, Mildred, me and "Wart" --
We'd race the train to Cameron if that old Ford would start. –
Like the times we'd all go riding and it seemed the car would wiggle --
We'd look and see you steal a kiss and me and "Wart" would giggle.
Looking back, I realize the young love you both shared
Began a life together that God himself prepared.
So, no matter where I wander,
No matter where I roam ---
No thrills can match the ones I knew
When "Brother" would come home.
This was written for my oldest brother and his wife, Mildred, on the occasion of their 50th wedding anniversary.
During WW2 he held a most critical position with the government in New Mexico.
“Brother” was a nickname we used for him and “Wart” was a nickname he gave his oldest son, my nephew, only one year Younger than me. He was an inspiration to everyone he met. His life story is motion picture material.