Tuesday, March 27, 2012

The Sandwich Kid, Part III

In my last installment of The Sandwich Kid, I introduced you to my younger brother, Brad.  He was for all of us a life changing experience.  Brad didn't then, and still doesn't now, know the meaning of the word "calm," "slow," or "take it easy."  Always on the go, something always cooking, Brad is a man of many talents and uses them constantly.

Did I mention that he was our dad's pride and joy?  You see Brad was Dad's first boy born to him.  Our older brother, Gene, and Dad had a tremendous relationship.  Gene always referred to Dad as his father too, but Gene was the product of mama's first marriage.

So, Brad comes along when Dad is 53.  Yes, you read that correctly -- age 53!  I remember Dad telling everyone that God had blessed him like Abraham, in his old age.  For a long time, eight-year old me wondered what that meant.

God visited Sarah exactly as he said he would; God did to Sarah what
he promised: Sarah became pregnant and gave Abraham a son in his old age,
and at the very time God had set.  Abraham named him Isaac.
When his son was eight days old, Abraham circumcised him just as God had commanded.

Perhaps this is behind Brad's call to the pulpit and preaching?  Not for us to know but it was something Dad said over and over.  And now I understand the blessing Dad saw in this baby boy.

Of course, being the only girl between two boys and not at all happy about this second one, it hurt my feelings to hear my daddy talking so proudly about this wrinkled, wiggling, red-faced from crying baby boy! 

And this baby boy began to grow . . .  yep, somebody was feeding him and it was taking! 
By 1959, at age five, Brad was firmly ensconced in his boy persona -- a rough and tumble cowboy lived out under the sycamore tree, while the house was filled with vroom, vroom! and all forms of cars and trucks.  Not to mention, a Lionel train lived under his bed.

Not only was my life being impacted by a five-year old brother, our older brother had his own son, now seven years old.  Where had all the girls gone?

I had no interest in the games boys played.  I liked my dolls, roller skates, Nancy Drew and Anne of Green Gables.

Whose idea was it that I'd be stuck in the middle of so many boys?  What could I do but try to exist?  Well, I made the best of it, as you'll see in the next installment of my life as a middle child.

I hope you'll come back and continue this journey with me.


  1. Hi Sherrey:

    I was the youngest of two children in my family and we are twelve years apart. My father was 51 when I was born. I like what your Dad said about being blessed like Abraham.


    1. Joan, thanks for stopping by and sharing your own experience as a child born to a parent later in life. :)


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