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Rated: E · Poetry · Biographical · #2226170
The story of my erstwhile brother-in-law.
1972.
Vietnam War was still raging,
and you'd returned
to The States,
met my oldest sister
in a pizza joint,
fell in love with her,
she with YOU.

On that day,
Pollockio,
you took on
the role
of Father
to three rebellious boys,
and ersatz husband
to my mother,
in addition to Lover
of my sister.

You tried HARD,
very hard INDEED,
but,
looking back,
I think we overwhelmed you
in the end,
with out incessant demands.

God,
what a noble Man
you were,
in your Duster 340,
Four On The Floor,
crew cut,
New Yawk drawl,
and funny ways!

I grew
to admire you,
love you,
and wanted
above all else
to make you
proud of me. . . . .

When you
and my sister
left for Washington DC,
another
Air Force Base,
you asked Roger,
my little brother,
to join you
for the summer,
NOT me.

Wow,
did THAT
ever HURT,
but we stayed in touch,
my love for you
never waned,
not even through
my own personal Hell
raging
full-force
at the time.

I graduated High School,
and you returned,
along with my sister
for the ceremony,
along with your infant son,
my nephew. . .
I will never forget that day!

The Army followed
shortly thereafter;
you didn't make it
through my training,
but somehow,
by the skin of my teeth
I DID,
much to your amazement.

Germany,
December of 77,
you were stationed
at Hahn AFB,
drove clear across the country,
picked me up
at Downs Barracks,
took me back
with you
so I could be there
for Christmas
with Family
that year. . .

Two years followed;
I'd hop the train
to Frankfurt AM Main,
then a bus
to Hahn
every chance I got,
to be
with my Family--
it helped keep me going.

Well,
long story short,
I didn't belong in the Army,
wasn't a good soldier
at all,
said goodbye
in December of 79
when the Powers That Be
decided I belonged in Kansas.

You followed me
back to the states
heading to McChord AFB
outside Seattle,
congratulated me
profusely
when I got married
in December of 80,
took
my wife,
my mother
and I
into your home
when I left the Army
in July of 81.

Remember
our final days together,
when my greed
got the better of me,
and I stole money
from your wallet,
in order to pay
for repairs
on that beaten-up old Nova?

One of the biggest mistakes
of my entire life,
because it cost me
my relationship
with you,
my sister,
my nephew,
a much beloved bicycle,
and
ultimately
my very sanity;
$56 wasn't worth it.

The last time
I heard from you
was in 85,
through The Salvation Army
in Texas,
telling my sister
had died. . . .

I think of you
to this very day
whenever I use
a lesson you taught me,
and,
though I've never been able
to contact you again,
you'll always
be part of me!

Thanks
for everything,
Pollockio!
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