A Tribute to my Brother Charlie
Black, white; chalky, marbly; butterscotch swirl, bowling ball.
The thunder of a hitting the pins, the thunder of a waterfall
Lacy waters that fall, windblown insects; the deep blue summer sky of summer, the deep lead clouds of summer.
Wet and chill after summer a thundershower, bees on clover and being careful.
Tracking grass inside that’s stuck in toes, white carpet of youth.
I miss Charlie, who was allergic to bees, tracked the wet grass onto mom’s carpet, watched waterfalls and insects with me in every sky, helped me with my first independence riding bikes to El Camino to bowl; my ten-speed was stolen there. Ice cream back had swirls in it. Marble was a novelty. Chalk was not. Nothing is white or black. Not life, not death. All stories lead to Charlie.
Happy birthday in two hours. You’d be sixty-six; I know, because I’ll be sixty-five this year.
I think of you even when I don’t.
Barb Lachenbruch 
Beautiful Barb and thank you for sharing this tribute to Charlie. I think of him daily but especially today. Sending hugs,
Laura
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Thanks, Laura. I’m glad you think of him, too. Sending hugs back your way, Barb
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Well done, Barb. You capture the essence of a beautiful series of memories and vivid images of the things we remember. Charlie with a crooked hat, looking in on me with a fastball we both knew was magic in what it could release… Capture, release, improve. Mark Fischer Colbrie and I were talking about Charlie running to work.
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Thanks, Rex. It’s great to read your more boyish take. Me and Charlie and insects in the air, you and him and fastballs and all that striving to improve. It’s nice to know you and Mark still think of him, too. We’re all such a big network, aren’t we!
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