MY TRIBUTE

September 21, 1932, my oldest brother came into the world.  We were some years apart but close in relationship.   Our shared love was music.  Through his talent for music and his teaching and ministry, music became a vital part of my life.  He even taught me piano for a while and gave his best try at teaching me to play the accordion.  That was probably more of a nightmare for him, but I TRIED.

What do I remember about him?  Oh let me count the ways.

I loved to hear him play the accordion and the piano.  His talent was amazing and I can still remember being mesmerized at his ability to play so gracefully all while watching his funny crooked little finger.

His singing voice was calming.  I loved to see the surprise on people’s faces when this freckle face sandy red hair young man came out with his booming bass voice.  I can still hear that voice in my ear right now.

He was a composer.  His drawers were filled with little notebooks of ideas for more songs that were never written.  He composed all his music writing every note and lyric by pencil.  Many times I have thought what a turnout he could have produced in this present computer age.

His humor kept me in stitches.  Oh what he wouldn’t think up.  He was the King of Puns I do believe.  He and his friend also had their own made up language.  Does anyone out there speak “Alfalfa”?  I do!  Thank you, my brother.  AND my favorite was his quick ability to say words backward.  I still do that today and even my children have picked up some of my lingo.  At least they understand it when I speak it.  One of my favorite sayings of his was, “I’m going down to Dradnats Lio to put some sag in my rac”.  Another was, “please pass the ragus”.  They go on and on.  Even my sister-in-law was affectionately known as “Enelrad”.  Inside secret---now you know why we call our middle child “Nerak” sometime.

I was blessed by two big brothers.  Both of them were my defenders whenever anyone attempted to pick on me.  I loved that they were there watching over me. 

I remember that my brother loved to carry me on his shoulder through the house and would duck as we went through the doorframes inside the house between rooms.  Glad we didn’t have ceiling fans back then!

He did this funny little thing with his fingers and throat.  He loved to play a tune on his neck and make me guess what he was “playing”.

Among all these memories there is one that will never leave my mind.  It was the day of my 7^th birthday, September 3, a morning that I went to register for the second grade.  I always had the privilege of starting school on or somewhere very near my birthday.  I had gone to school that morning for a few hours of registration and meeting my teacher.  After getting home I ran upstairs to put on my play clothes and go outside to play with neighborhood friends.  As I came out the front door and onto the porch, there on the sidewalk was the most beautiful green 24-inch Schwinn girl’s bicycle.  I had begged and begged for a bicycle and my parents had said they were not able to get me one.  I was sad!  My brother had purchased it for me for my birthday with his very own money from his teaching accordion at Shackelton’s Music store. (Maybe my parents knew that was happening and thus the “story”.  I never knew.) That bicycle took me all over Crescent Hill community and sits in my shed today.  I have ridden it in my adult years and will never part with it.  Presently it needs new tires! (Good ol’ South Florida rubber rot set in.)  Said bike would make a cool yard conversation piece.  If it weren’t behind so much stuff in the shed I would post a picture.  Maybe in the future!

As if it were yesterday I remember the day when he and his wife and two-year old Billy left Louisville to move to South Alabama where he was going to be a minister of music in a church.  I thought my heart was being ripped out.  I recall trying to leave the house that morning after our “goodbyes” and heading for the bus stop.  I couldn’t stop crying, so he loaded me into his car and delivered me to my high school.  I still remember leaning on my hall locker door thinking I would not get through the day. 

Summer came and I went to Alabama for a two-week visit. My parents drove me there and let me stay. Riding the train home---that “hall locker feeling” came back. 

Years went on and visits were sporadic at best.  We never lived in the same town again.  I married.  He composed a song for our wedding and sang it. 

I always enjoyed our visits and phone calls and his letters.  Yes, people wrote letters back then.

I loved him!  He loved me!  He was not a perfect man, often troubled by the cares of this world, but I thank God for the blessing of being his sister.  He taught me much.

The chapters closed on October 9, 1982.  I have missed every day of the thirty years we did not get to spend together. Diabetes took him from us all.  But now I know he is whole and still singing.  I look forward to the day when we share our music again.  

I love you, Baynard Layne Fox.