Just An Old Softy


My brother was a big boy for his age. He loved to tease me something awful. I never knew what he would do next. But he was an old softy with a heart as big as all out doors.

He had a lot of good friends but there were a couple of boys in town who were just mean spirited. They picked on my brother because they knew he wouldnít fight. He would come home with a black eye or bloody nose and my grandmother would ask him why he didnít fight back.

" Oh, grandma, heíd say, Iím afraid I will hurt them."

One day she told him that he had to start taking up for himself or those boys would never leave him alone. She said, " If you donít want to hit them, just get them down and sit on them." But he never did.

One day he came in and asked if he could go rabbit hunting with one of his friends. My grandmother said, " Oh Johnny, you donít want to go rabbit hunting."

" Yes I do grandma, please let me go."

" Well, alright, if youíre sure you want to."

So off he went with his friend Homer.

It wasnít long before he came home crying.

" Grandma, Iím never going rabbit hunting with Homer again, he said, he killed a poor little rabbit."

" Well Johnny, what did you think he was going to do?" she asked.

" I thought he was just going to hunt it, I didnít know he was going to kill it."

One day we were sitting on the front porch in the swing and a spider crawled across the porch. I hopped down and stomped on it.

" Whatíd you do that for?" he cried.

"Itís a spider." I replied in a tone as if to say, " Are you nuts?"

" Well, you didnít have to kill it, you could have just scooted it off the porch." he said.

Iíll never forget the day we were in the school yard as school had just let out for the day. One of the bulliesís was picking on him, trying to get him to fight. He kept giving Johnny little jabs. It made me fighting mad and I took a running leap and landed on the bullies back. I started hitting him in the head with my fists. He kept spinning around, trying to shake me off. I guess my brother was afraid that I would get hurt so he doubled up his fist and popped the bully in the mouth. It tickled me to death to see the look on the bullyís face. He didnít know what to think. After that they didnít pick on him so much.

A golden memory from childhood.

By Lora Cox ©2001