My Brother....

My brother was born 86 years ago. He was the son of a share cropper, and the grandson of a fisherman who tried to make a living off the Little Wabash River in Southern Illinois. His father was my father. We had different mothers, because his mother and father later divorced and I wasn't born until 20 years later. His mother was 16 years old when he was born, and his father was 17. Before one judges his parents because of their age when he was born, it is best to keep in mind that 86 years ago people often married at a very young age. Little girls were raised to be homemakers and mommies, and little boys were usually working to help support their own immediate family even before starting a family of their own. Higher aspirations were only for the wealthy. His parents had three more children. One little baby sister died. Their relationship was turbulent. His dad was a rebel coming from a family of five brothers and one sister. His mother was too young and overwhelmed trying to handle three kids and a rowdy husband. In spite of all of that, my brother overcame the odds and succeeded in life on all of society's scales used to measure success. He was just that kind of guy. He was always responsible. Maybe it had something to do with being the first born. Maybe it was due to his apparent intelligence or as they would say in the world of psychology, his "innate ability."

I was born in 1942. He was already a Marine and serving his country in the South Pacific in 1941. Daddy was still a sharecropper, and my mother was a young Irish woman who all of her life wanted most to have a family and create a loving atmosphere for her children. Her mother and father had divorced when she was a small child. She wanted something better for her children. Her first husband died on Christmas Day leaving her with a five year old daughter. Together, she and my father had two children, first a son and then me six years later.

A few years after I was born, life in the United States significantly improved for all citizens. The war ended. Prohibition days were over. It was a time of peace in the nation, and family lives also began to improve. I can't remember the effects of the great depression. Being raised on a farm, I was never hungry. We grew our vegetables, and my father hunted for our meat. We raised chickens and our milk came from a cow.

I know it was a lot tougher for my brother. I am sure the personal issues in his family contributed to his choice of becoming a Marine. Apparently, that was a good choice for him and from what I can see, he only made good choices thereafter. He married a young woman named Lucile, and they had two children. That marriage lasted until she passed away after their children were grown. He then married Marilyn, and that marriage lasted until he passed away this week.

I have wonderful memories of his many visits home to the farm throughout the years and observed his success in his career and with raising a family. His children both graduated from college. I am sure he was extremely proud, and believe those were probably two of the most important days of his life. He knew the value of an education. In spite of his not having the privilege to attend college, he worked side by side with other well educated field engineers earning more money than he probably could ever have imagined when he was a kid roaming the countryside of Southern Illinois. How was he able to do achieve that? It was due to his intelligence, dependability, perseverance and desire to make a difference in the lives of those he loved. Yet he knew that with a formal education, he could have risen even higher in the company.

One might wonder how we could have had anything in common due to the age difference, but there is a bond that is formed between siblings whether caused by genetics or designated by God, that is strong and forever connected. We actually shared a lot of common interests. So many that I often wish we had been born closer in age. It's quite something when the first born and the "baby" of the family connect, and there are twenty years, a war and a lifetime of living between us. I can just imagine had we been a couple of years apart how close we would have been. Well...that wasn't to be, but we did share a couple of family reunions in the past three years in Southern Illinois. I arrived from California, and he arrived from Shawnee Mission, Kansas. When we parted the last time, he hugged me really tight and with tears in his eyes, he said, "Take care of yourself." As we drove away, I said to my husband, "I think my brother believes this is the last time we are going to see each other."

Thank you, Dear Brother, for all of the fond childhood memories (my childhood...your adulthood) of holiday celebrations on the farm, laughter, country music, 4th of July's and most of all, thank you for being a role model that has given me a lot of years of being able to brag about the accomplishments of my brother. Tomorrow you will be laid to rest. I will see you in heaven. "Harold G. Meserole 1922 - 2009"