BROTHER : TERRY

Brother Terry
June 21, 2008


When my brother Terry was born, in Mena, Arkansas, 1963, my family was happy when he weighed 5 pounds as a premature infant, that he could be brought home.

I can remember mother in her rocking chair, rocking Terry. And me in my rocking chair, rocking my doll. Since I was four years older, than Terry, I thought he was a doll. This memory of both mother and myself rocking our babies, is a great way to remember how I felt about our baby brother. As time went by we adored how cute Terry was. He always had a big belly and little legs. We thought he looked like he had swallowed a balloon. Terry never said my name correct, `Betty`. He would say, `Bit-te`. Like a horses `bit` and bridle, with a golf `tee` sound. Years of being called `Bit-te`, was very excepted by our family. Even Terry’s language skills rubbed off on our daddy. He would say, `Bit-te Jean`. Putting my first and middle name together in a rush, especially when angry.

As Terry grew, he was still our little baby brother no matter how grown up he became. One day in Dekalb County, Alabama, at a mobile home park, Terry and a neighbor’s child named Sheila, were always at conflict with each other.

Sheila decided she would find herself an empty coca-cola bottle and walk toward Terry with purpose to knock him in the head. I ran toward Sheila and got the glass bottle away from her, just in time before she accomplished her dirty deed. This caused Sheila to run all the way home screaming and crying to the top of her lung’s.

Another neighborhood scene, is with our bike club. A group of children would ride bikes together. These bicycle riders were also our yard game soccer ball players. Everytime we played any outside game, Terry always got hurt. So we would tell him prior to the game, “If you cry when you get hurt, do not tell mother, or she will make us all come inside”. Sometimes the kids would resort to holding our hands over Terry’s mouth, to silence him from mother’s ears.

Another memory of Terry was how he could pound his head, just like `Curly`, on the T.V. comedy show, “Three Stooges”. Our friends, the famous bicycle gang, would dare him to hit the brick house, with his head. Which was very entertaining , for our guest.

One day in Section, Alabama we were in 1968, moving to the new house in Dekalb County. Daddy’s doghouse was on top of the truck bed, when Terry decided to climb up on this doghouse. He slipped and fell head first into the metal bumper hitch of the back of the truck. Which resulted in Terry having a huge gushing gash on his head. This would have been when Terry turned five years old. Of course, this head injury was serious. However, since I was a child myself, I kept thinking his tough head is due to all the practice of head butting, we encouraged in the name of entertainment. I resolved myself he was going to be fine.

The most enduring memory was Terry being a thumb sucker. We would jointly as a family coax Terry to stop sucking his thumb, to prevent buck teeth. However, this never worked. No matter how much black pepper, iodine, rubbing alcohol or nasty concoction we mixed together, to soak this thumb in, nothing prevented Terry, from daily thumb sucking.

Also a fond memory about Terry was his love of peanutbutter and jelly sandwiches. He literally lived off of peanutbutter. So much so, that he would start a gag reflux if a green vegetable was hinted at. This of course, started a chain reaction of daddy enforcing green vegetable rules. With mother putting Terry away from the dinner table. Of course, she had already told Terry not to fear, she would return later that night with a `secret` made peanutbutter and jelly sandwich.

Now let us talk about candy. Yes, Terry loved candy. All kinds of sugar based cereals with the fun boxed toy surprises, delighted him. One favorite choice was `Captain Crunch`, cereal.

The next memory is concerning Terry always being the child, who turned over his milk glass. I always prayed , “Lord, please let us eat our food before Terry turns over the milk”. Due to daddy becoming so angry about how often this would happen at dinner time.

By the time Terry was 16, I was 20 years old. And he and brother David had one year previous, 1979, given CPR to daddy, to keep him alive until the ambulance arrived. However, he had a massive heart attack and nothing could save him. From 1979, Terry @15 and David @17 years old, became the men of the household. By the time that Terry had graduated High School he and mother were a team. Terry continues from 1979 until 2008, 29 years later, he is still mowing and weed eating the homeplace. He has provided a continuance of financial, physical and emotional support for our mother. Without Terry, mother would have lost her desire to move forward after daddy’s death.

My brother Terry is a man of God (IHVH). He is a leader in faith at his church and his community.

When this earth passes away, I imagine the meeting Between Terry and daddy, on the new earth. Embraced shoulder to shoulder, man to man, they shall enter the new gates of Jerusalem, with the old flesh man put away, the renewal of father and son will be a celebration long awaited for. Both men will have all negative remembrance thrown into the sea of forgetfulness. Both men will worship our heavenly Father, equal in spirit, resolutions achieved, all `adam` traits relinquenced. My brother Terry is a man our daddy would have honored, to be his son.


I love you, Terry !

Love your sister, forever, Betty `Bit-te` . . .: