Seven Years Is a Lifetime To a Seven Year Old

As we, first borns of the baby boom, emerged from under the wings of the valiant men and women who performed amazing feats before we were born, realized more were coming, we got out the toys that we had and started mustering ourselves. There wasn't much material wealth. It was made up for by pure energy and imagination. The brilliant, creative minds of our parents, who survived an onslaught by the adversary himself spilled out to the halflings they whelped. We were blessed by God and we gave Him thanks each day. We were on a quest for the new and unusual. The constant lift-off and return of the SAC B-52's from Carswell kept everyone on their toes. Especially, us Junior Rangers.

Personally, I had a little sister and had no idea what to do with her. The big girls bossed us and little ones were the darlings of every Big Person. But a little brother was someone to get your head around because we boys were always at the end of a belt or a big paw or a livid Mom. One step ahead of doom. I could already taste the chance to deflect some of my misdeeds to the Little Brother. Problem was my little brother was the cutest thing I ever saw, next to my tub full of turtles and jar full of tarantulas. He stayed close to Mom and I wanted to take him around the neighborhood and show him off and show him the hide-outs. Story is never-ending for you Pat.

Patrick H. Darnell, the name is regal. You are the sliced bread and PB & J, hand cranked ice cream. Watermelons on the back porch. Happy birthday , Me Brudder. You're a keeper and we all want you for our own. May the Summertime suit you because you are a part of it for all time.
Love, David