Esther Barnes
English Theme
December 12, 1932
Those of us who happen to have little brothers have often said to those who have none , “Oh, you don’t know how lucky you are!” But down deep in our hearts we really feel sorry for you because you are so unfortunate.
It seems only yesterday that my brother (Flunky, I called him, for what reason I haven’t the faintest idea) and I played together, but it has been several years ago. We found it rather difficult to decide what we would play; however, we settled the matter by his agreeing to play dolls with me providing I would play cowboy with him. It usually ended in my very sophisticated doll Adrian, that was her name, being dressed in the undignified manner of a cowpuncher.
My sister, being almost five years older than I, felt that it was far beneath her standing to play with her little sister. This explains why my brother and I were the best of pals. I was a typical tom-boy. There wasn’t a tree in the neighborhood that I couldn’t or wouldn’t climb. Why, I’ve even jumped from the roof of our garage with an old umbrella clutched in my hand. Our peach tree back of the garage never had any fruit on it. My brother and I ate them from the time the blossoms fell until they were within a few weeks of being ripe. We ate them and thought they were good!
The happiest hours of my childhood were spent in the Little House. My father built us a tiny room on the back of the garage. It was five feet square, high enough for us to stand up in, two windows, an oak floor, and a door made it a complete home. Mother gave us an old rug and we manufactured the furniture. My brother objected to lace curtains, but for once I had my own way. We landscaped the lawn by thinning mother’s flowers and transplanting them. We took perfect care of them. Every evening after school we took great pains to remove every dead leaf from them. Never have I seen such gorgeous flowers. They were far more beautiful than mother’s, although they were of the same variety.
Back in the days when serial pictures were being shown at the Jefferson Theatre, he and I were ardent fans of Tom Tyler, William Desmond, Bob Custer, Tom Mix, and numerous other film cowboys. After each performance we went home and proceeded to re-act the wildest scenes. For weeks at a time I have been a brave western girl desperately trying to stop a run-a-way pony, only to be rescued by a tall, dark, and handsome stranger. Those were the days!
I could continue indefinitely, telling of my childhood experiences. Gee, but I certainly had a glorious, care-free time with my pal, my little brother.
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