Brogan

According to old Pastor Robert, the only bird in the world that don't sing, is a Buzzard!

Around Brogan, the old wore-out shoe town, there are several Buzzards. Homer and I have heard that reference made in our direction numerous times over the last sixty years - "Oh Lord, how can it be that long?"

You've already guessed-Homer and I are old fossils-that seems to be the consciences around Brogan.

It is my considered opinion; all those derogatory accolades are accurate and well earned by Homer. Anyone with a pet rattlesnake, staked out on a dog's leash, on his porch, is a Buzzard! That's just all there is to it.

My association with Homer goes back to the Stone Age-I didn't plan it that way-if I'd known I'd get Homer for a brother-in-law for fifty-three years-I'd probably left his sister at the alter and run like hell!-But you guessed it-I didn't run-I married his sister, Ruth-at times I thought maybe that was like being married to Homer. Anyway, according to Homer, he was the icing on mine and Ruth's wedding cake.

Over the last sixty years I've wondered, many times, whether it was divine intervention, the devil's handiwork, coincidence, or just dumb luck that brought us into the same world-I sure as hell didn't plan it that way! I don't think he planned it either.

When you're young, a lot of things happen, you don't plan. As a twenty year old, I had plans, Homer or anyone like Homer was never, never, never, even slightly considered in my ordered world. I had finished seventeen months in combat-I had survived-I had a thirty day leave-I was on my way to what used to be my home-and then!

"Can the Navy be caught dead sitting with the Army?" said this Sailor. "They ain't no more seats-I'd be obliged! I's hoping for a woman."