The Day I Almost Lost A Brother

     Twice in my young life I almost lost a brother, I didn't misplace them, they were involved in situations that could have resulted in their demise.
     The first time involved my brother Pat. When I was six years old and Pat was working on five, we lived in Lagardo, Tn. a small community on highway 109. It may not have been called highway 109 back then as there was no highway like the one of today. It was just a winding two lane road from highway 70 to the ferry crossing on the Cumberland river, a strong emphasis should be on "winding".
     Anyway, we lived about a mile from Grandpa Riggan and I attended school at the Lagardo school. Old Hickory Lake had not come into being at that time but was in the works. This goes back to when Dad fished with cane poles and drove to most of his fishing spots with the cane poles hanging out the back window of his forty something model four door car.
     Dad loaded up Pat and I one day and headed out past the school to where the Spencer Creek boat ramp is today and turned down a dirt road that had been carved into a field by fishermen seeking their favorite fishing spots. The road or rather path followed the original Spencer Creek and there were many places where people just pulled off the side of the road and started fishing from the creek bank.
     So, as Dad was driving down the dirt road, which was somewhat bumpy, Pat and I were in the back seat. Pat was leaning out the window, the wind was blowing in his face, when all of a sudden the door flew open and there was Pat hanging on to the window sill with his feet flopping in the breeze as he was dragged through dry weeds. It took a minute for me to get Dad's attention and for him to stop the car.
     Pat turned out to be alright just scarred. Things could have been worse had Pat lost his grip he could have been thrown under the rear wheel. Although I can't remember, Dad probably swore us to silence but being young kids we probably spilled the beans at the first opportunity which in turn probably got him in trouble with Mom.
     Many years later in a far away land called Vietnam, I almost lost my brother again. Pat was a U.S. Navy corpsman serving with  a group of  U.S. Marines at an outpost in the jungles of Vietnam. One night the enemy attacked the outpost, I don't know the details but during the battle Pat was wounded as he attended his brothers in arms. He was awarded the Purple Heart for his wounds and a Bronze Star for his bravery.


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     The second time I almost lost a brother was years later, I was maybe thirteen or fourteen years old at the time, we lived in Mt. Juliet, Tn. We lived in a small subdivision that was to hold about two hundred homes but never got off the ground, after five years there were no more than eighteen homes.
     Clint was the brother who almost bit the dust this time. Clint was eight or nine years old and could be a pain in the butt and very headstrong ( Mom called it stubborn ). He was at that age where he was too old to play with his younger siblings and not old enough to play with Pat and I, he was old enough to tag along with us whether or not he was supposed to or we wanted him to. When  I wanted to do something by myself  I had to sneak away.
     One day I hopped on my bike and took off down to the creek, guess who tagged along ? Now Clint didn't have a bike so he had to run and for a little kid he could run pretty good. I wound up riding the paths along the creek bank and wound up at the boat launch area, after a short while I decided to head for the house and started up the hill to the road, this is where Clint almost bought the farm.
     There was a new house being built for a guy named Bob Wilson. The house was being built on the side of the hill and being as this was Tennessee they were having to use dynamite to blast away the rock to make a place for the house.
     I was riding my bicycle up the hill using the road from the boat launch and I was quickly pulling away from Clint but then he saw a short cut across the area where workmen were building the house. Dynamite charges had been placed in the ground and heavy netting had been placed over the area to contain any shrapnel. I had stopped on the road to watch the workmen as they got ready to blast when I saw Clint running up the hill oblivious to the workmen. The man controlling the detonator was poised to push the plunger as he was counting down, when me and all of the other workman started shouting for Clint to stop where he was but he stubbornly pushed on and didn't stop till he got to the road. The guy with the plunger cussed and shouted at both of us. I don't think Clint realized how close he came to being blown to kingdom come.
     Growing up in a large family always had it's issues, sibling rivalry was one of those issues, there seemed to be arguments between one or more of us on a daily basis but we did love each other. As the oldest I was expected to keep my siblings out of trouble, it was a difficult job at best, impossible as a rule, when they had their mind set on doing something I might as well get out of the way. I'm glad Pat and Clint made it through to adulthood growing up would not have been the same without them.
     Recently I lost my youngest sibling Ronnie to a heart attack, he was eleven years younger than me. His passing hit me hard, being the oldest doesn't necessarily mean I will be the first to die but neither did it keep me from mourning his absence.