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I remember the day my baby brother, Butch (named by the family doctor) came home from the hospital. I was in 4th grade and I was elated. I could not wait for him to be "my baby". I learned to care for him, feed him, look after him, change diapers, and keep him from clubbing my cousin's dog with his casts and braces on his feet (I missed once. Penny never came around Butch again). I watched him grow and get away with murder; I watched his hair grow longer, and he bedtimes become non-existent. If he didn't like something we had for dinner, he did not have to "clean your plate or sit there and have it for breakfast". I watched he and his friends going to church; getting into minimal trouble and flirting with girls with their 70's/80's hair styles and Saturday Night Fever clothes. He always stretched out the necks of his t-shirts because "they choke me". I watched as he was wheeled into surgery because "he ate too many hot dogs at a ball gam
e
and got appendicitis" (really caused when the handlebar of his bike he
fell from hit him in the lower right quadrant of his abdomen. I watched
him walking like my pop-pop because he had peritonitis and was doubled
over from pain.
I watched "my baby brother" grow into a fine
young man. Watched him marry, have children and love and adore his
kids. I sorrowed with him through the divorce and watched him fall in
love numerous times before finding God's choice for him. I have seen
him learn to love and care for her kids and support and love his own.
I have grieved and been afraid for him when I knew he had bad "calls"
as a firefighter. I wept many tears as I knew his pain watching "his
brothers" go into the crumbling towers of 9-11. I remember his words to
me, "Cookie, I am doing what I love to do". I prayed God's protection
for my baby brother. I prayed safety for his battalion. Now I pray for
his future as he retires from the West Palm Beach Fire Dept. on Tues.
Sept 11 (in honor of his fallen brothers) and I am proud! Proud of the
man he is; the husband he is (even with all the mistakes), proud of the
father he is, the son and brother he is.... but very proud of the fire
fighter he is and ever more will be.
I am very proud of you,
Butchie Boy... Wally, Butch, Walter Allen Barndt. My brother, my
friend, I love you! God be with you in your life choices in the future.
I watched "my baby brother" grow into a fine young man. Watched him marry, have children and love and adore his kids. I sorrowed with him through the divorce and watched him fall in love numerous times before finding God's choice for him. I have seen him learn to love and care for her kids and support and love his own.
I have grieved and been afraid for him when I knew he had bad "calls" as a firefighter. I wept many tears as I knew his pain watching "his brothers" go into the crumbling towers of 9-11. I remember his words to me, "Cookie, I am doing what I love to do". I prayed God's protection for my baby brother. I prayed safety for his battalion. Now I pray for his future as he retires from the West Palm Beach Fire Dept. on Tues. Sept 11 (in honor of his fallen brothers) and I am proud! Proud of the man he is; the husband he is (even with all the mistakes), proud of the father he is, the son and brother he is.... but very proud of the fire fighter he is and ever more will be.
I am very proud of you, Butchie Boy... Wally, Butch, Walter Allen Barndt. My brother, my friend, I love you! God be with you in your life choices in the future.
