Shortly, after my third birthday, a baby brother arrived. I was still the only girl but no longer the baby. I could hardly wait for brother Jack to start walking so he could play with me. All too soon the time arrived to watch his first steps and hear his first words. I was thrilled to have this new playmate. I thought about teaching him to climb trees, catch crawfish, to build toadhouses with our bare feet and moist dirt; also how to peek into bird nests without disturbing the eggs.
Somewhere, down the line, something went wrong. About the time Brother Jack was six and I was nine, he turned into a pest. I was a head taller than little brother but he outweighed me by several pounds and really packed a whollop when he hit. We seemed to fight a lot and Mama still saw Jack as a baby; I was a big girl. Mama was always making excuses for him; telling me he was just a baby and did not mean to hurt me; and since he was younger than I, not to hit back.
Well, about this time Jack discovered what fun it was to play, "Hit and Run". He didn't need a reason to hit me; he would appear from nowhere, hit me and take off running, calling over his shoulder, "Betcha can't catch me!" I was a pretty fast runner and would tear off, knowing the spanking forthcoming would be worth what I would give him.
One evening between sundown and dark my tormentor came tearing by, hit me and left in a great hurry, calling over his shoulder, "You can't catch me".
Around the house we ran and had almost completed one circle when disaster struck! Just as I stretched out my arm to grab him, already tasting vengeance, my world exploded! Some invisible force caught me on the throat and turned me a couple of flips, left me on the ground, unable to move. Try as I might, no air would enter my lungs. Commonly known as "having the breath knocked from your body" was what I was experiencing I could not make a sound; I was helpless. Well, while I 'm on the ground, Brother Jack made three more complete circles around the house, making certain he gave me a wide berth. He figured I was playing possum and if he came near, I would grab him. The third time he paused, peered over in my direction and asked, "Sis, are you o.k.?" By this time I was able to croak somewhat and told him to get Mama. She came and then we realized what had happened. My two older brothers had pooled their earnings and bought a battery radio. They needed an antenna so a very fine piano wire was stretched from the radio through a crack and out to a fence post. Late in the evening it was invisible. The one being pursued was able to go under the wire but the one pursuing wasn't so lucky!
Well, Mama said it served me right for trying to hit my little brother.
I knew, sooner or later, he would pay his dues.
Time has a way of mellowing memories and I found a warm,loving relationship developing between Jack and me. When I left home for college in June, 1950, I missed my entire family but guess who I missed most of all? BROTHER JACK!