Join our family in our love for music and the lyrics of life.

 
 
 
Written by:  Kevin Jackson
 
I want to let everyone know how special my brother, Tracy , is to me. We have been together all our sentient lives and have been like most brothers in that we fought, we laughed, and we learned early on that no matter what, we were brothers. We were separated only by 14 months by birth so we experienced most everything in life together. We even had chicken pox at virtually the same time.
 
When we first moved to Yarbro, just outside of Blytheville Ar. Tracy and I were out looking for something to entertain ourselves with on a cold, late fall morning. A strange teenager ( it turned out to be one of our new neighbors ) was out behind our house in what would later be our garden. Being the pair we were, promptly told him to get off our property. We were only 10 and 11 and he was wearing a toboggan face mask that made him appear ominous. He declined and told us he goes were he wants, or something like that. I’m not sure I remember exactly how this played out, but it wound up with Tracy locked in Kens’ arms. That was his name. As we later found, Ken was a rather unscrupulous character, but harmless. Anyway, I’m not sure what to do and pick up a half brick that was lying about and threatened to smash his head with it. I was a little scared but was not sure how far this situation was going. I remember Tracy saying “Don’t”. Ken was agreeing with him but continued to hold my brother hostage. In a split second decision, I let the brick fly right at Kens face. Well, that was my intended target. I’ll never forget how I felt when I saw the blood running from Tracys’ head. Ken immediately released him, (mission accomplished). Tracy ran inside and all I could think was, I’m in trouble, It wasn’t my fault, it wasn’t supposed to happen, I’m supposed to be the hero. Meanwhile, Tracy was driven to the hospital where he would get his head stitched and as I remember, nobody ever said a cross word to me. I think I would have preferred a punishment of some kind. Instead, I got a little, short-lived resentment from Tracy. A reminder that he did tell me not to throw the brick. I was left with my own guilt.
Some years later, when I was in a fight with a much larger boy, I was thrilled to see my little brother jump up and whack this man-child in the ear. He was my little brother, he took up for me, the torturous, overbearing, manipulating, older brother that I thought he hated, was jumping in the air to slap this goliath of a 6th grader in the head. That fight was diffused, in part because of Tracy.
There is nothing I wouldn’t do for my brother. I don’t call him little anymore. He’s bigger than I am, not just physically. He’s my brother…don’t mess with him, or you’ll have to answer to, well, if there’s anything left of you…me!
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