My Brother Craig
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As I’ve said before, brothers have a special relationship forever,
Brotherly love is what always has held us very close together,
The poem very briefly touches on some of the fun times we had,
As young men growing up together as outdoor loving young lads.
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My Brother Craig
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When Craig and I fished in the bass boat with our dear old Dad,
Dad would rip the loudest farts out there that just smelled so bad.
Craig said, “did you hear the bullfrog from under Dad’s cheeks?”
I said “yes, but I think it was dead because it really does reek.”
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Dad always sat up on the front chair to operate the trolling motor. Craig and I alternated sitting at that chair in the back. The one in the middle with his nose at Dad’s butt level got a blast of that gas right at his nose level.
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When Craig and I talked about Dad, we both called him “geezer”.
I guess we were both kind of silly and were always such teasers.
But we never called him that to his face for fear he might get mad,
So we always respected him and to his face, and called him just Dad.
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Craig and I hunted ducks at Lake Meredith on those icy shores
At five in the morning before daybreak just a little bit bored.
We would sit in the dark and light a cigarette there before sunup,
Boasting to each other about how many ducks we would run up.
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Looks like we ran up about seven mallards on that day of duck hunting.
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I told Craig “the Browning Citori was the best shotgun of them all,”
He said “oh no, Charles Daly was the best over-under in the Fall.”
So we hunted that day to see which was the very best shotgun.
I got 5 ducks and he got 4, so I guess Browning was the best one.
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I loved my Browning Citori shotgun and Craig loved his Charles Daly shotgun. They were both excellent over and under 12 gauge shotguns.
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When I went fishing with Craig, we would make a bet who was best,
One dollar for the first fish, two the most, and three for the biggest.
We surely did this a hundred times. when we were young he men.
Over those years of bets, I think that we just did break even.
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Craig caught the first one and the most. I caught the biggest. Looks like we broke even again.
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Craig used to come and see us when we cooked steaks by grill,
From the tender beef Pam’s Dad butchered there by his will.
It amazed Pam that Craig ate ever scrap including all of the fat,
Then we had a few beers and he laid on our couch for a nap.
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Nothing like a great T-bone steak and a few cool ones to put Craig right to sleep.
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When Craig and I hunted pheasants back when that was the craze,
We ran into trouble and got run off of a very big field of maze.
We thought we were in trouble, but we called the guys bluff,
And walked away with our heads held high just feeling so tough.
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We managed to get three pheasants that day after our run in with the bluffer..
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One time Craig and I were rafting the mighty Rio Grande River,
When we crossed private property and the owner did quiver,
He was mad as an old hen saying he was going to call the law.
Craig yelled we didn’t get on your property, the river’s for us all.
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That’s my raft that Craig, Dad, and I were floating down the Rio Grande River across private property on. The federal law says it legal as long as you don’t step out on the bank.
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Craig and I took graduate classes extended from Texas Tech,
Sponsored by Phillips for engineers that at Frank Phillips college met.
After classes on Tuesdays, we would head for Jeans Bar and Grill,
To drink beer and play pool after a day of work and school at our will.
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Okay, let’s play for a buck a game. You get the first round Craig.
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As close brothers, we had lots of fun running together back then,
We slowed down when we got married, but still meet as we can.
With separate responsibilities and family’s for us both to love,
I guess we’ll keep plugging along until we’re called from above.
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By Bill
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Thanks for reading My Brother Craig,
Bill