September Seranade

Ahh, the month of September has finally arrived. Believe it or not I always love September. School years it is a new beginning, temperarure wise it has it’s warm days and cool days with the added benefit of my brothers birthday. Months with birthdays always rise up in memories, because they are emotional, packed with happy memories. I am terrible with remembering birthdays, but I always remember my brothers birthdays. I have even forgotten my birthday but absolutely never forget my brothers birthday. September 16, 1944. The end time of the big one, WWII. My brothers were war babies. My birth year put me as The first wave of peace babies (born after the war) also known as baby boomers. It’s odd, forgetting your own birthday, but to remember your siblings birthday is akin to remembering to wake up in the morning, it is part of your dna. My remaining brother will become 72 this year, and come November I will become 70. Frightful to think of those numbers as being indicators of age, but there you have it, I am getting old. The other positive spin on that is my brother is older than I am by 2 entire years plus almost two months. I grew up in an extremely dysfunctional family, filled with horrible memories but September was the bright spot of the year, because of my brother’s birthday. Memories are lots like opinions, everyone has one. I can’t tell you why my brother’s birthdays stick out so much, especially considering I can not remember a single particular birthday of theirs. The dna thing must be the true fact because no other reason even comes close. I just looked at my left wrist, and was startled by the ace bandage wrapped around it. Now I feel the pain as well and will cease writing soon. I had a doctor deaden the wrist so he could drain a cyst. A drain that will probably bring limited relief because the doctor said it will probably return, but his prognosis was arthritus was my root probablem and I would need my wrist fused to lessen the pain. Since I have been on a routine morphine regimen for years now minor pain is already gone, but I can certainly tell there is a problem there. That is one of the costs of growing old. Now that I am thinking of the pain I will really have to stop. Happy birthday brother, I hope it’s your best ever.

Author: gary

I am a retired paralegal private investigator. I live in southeast Missouri, USA. I am 74 years old and have been a hippie since 1967. Peace out

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