These two pictures are of my late Uncle Bus, his late wife Zelma, and their late son Jerry.
Jerry was born June 1941. I was born July 1941. Jerry was closest to my age than any of my cousins. They lived in Douglasville, Ga. At family get-togethers it was expected Jerry and I to play with each other. Only thing is to mix Jerry and I together was like trying to mix oil and water.
Jerry was not very adventurous. He preferred to stay within eyesight of his parents (or maybe it was them with that preference) and he had a fearful way about him. He scratched himself he would cry as if he was going to bleed to death. On the other hand, I preferred to be out of view of my parents because I knew I could get away with more. I loved to climb trees. Jerry wouldn't dare climb a tree unless his parents were there to help him.... the list goes on.
In the high school I attended I found myself in the principals office explaining myself many times. I graduated by the skin of my teeth. Jerry graduated with honors.
Jerry went to Citadel College in Charleston. I worked and went to an extension of The University of Georgia, and 15 years later went to Kennesaw College.
Jerry went into the Air Force as an officer and became a F-105 pilot and was shot down in Vietnam. He did not survive the crash.
I on the other hand went into the Navy and spent most my nights drinking and raising hell, and I am still alive.
Which gave Bus and Zelma profound thoughts about me. I am not sure what kind of profound thougts, but I could tell they doubled focused every time they would see me at family reunions and funerals. And they always pumped me full of questions about my love life and career before I was married and after I married about our boys.
Then strangely, after my father died, every time I ran into them Bus would give me fatherly advice... stern-type of advice, "You need to lose a few pounds don't you Eddie?" or "I think you could stand to put on a couple of pounds Eddie, I hardly recognized you."
Was I a stand-in for Jerry?
6 comments:
It sounds that way.....I think that they learned that being so careful with their son was not necessarily the way to keep him forever, and afterward, they transferred their parental feelings to you.
I think so too.
I had a relative but we were a lot alike. We were peas in a pod and did all kinds of stuff together.
I think you were most certainly a stand in.
Probably high praise in its own way.
sounds that way to me, ed. losing a child hurts more than anything else I can think of. Maybe it just made him feel better. You're never prepared to stop being a parent, I think.
I agree w/Kenju & Bird. Did it make you uncomfortable or were you ok with it?
This just reminded me of something I need to blog...
I agree, I think I was a surrogate son. And I suspect they were pretty demanding on him.
It didn't bother me how they looked at me, knowing of the terrible void they had in their lives.
I can't imagine such lost as a child. I hope I never have to go through that.
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