Clyde, 85 years old

Come let us reason together, I say.  I am eighty-seven years old; Clyde was eighty-five.  Reason will tell you I knew him for all his days.  Longer than anyone here.  Right?  Of course.

So I also knew the eighty-five year old Clyde whom you all knew.  That was a man much admired for his common sense, his honesty, his faithfulness, his dedication to a life followed after the teachings of our Lord Jesus Christ.  He knew how to whittle and whistle.  He could farm fields and feed goats.  He could introduce little children to the rabbits and rattle snake rattles.  He could make trades, farm fields, milk cows, and drive tractors.  He could fire up a fire so hot it would melt silver, then use the silver to decorate spurs and saddles.  He could play the guitar like Roy Clark and sing like a meadowlark.

But I also knew a little brother named Bubby who you did not know.  I was the little girl who gave him his first pinto beans.  No doubt our mom was a bit disturbed when she saw me in the middle of the bed giving “beamas” to my Bubby.

My Bubby had to drink goat’s milk for his health’s sake.  Therefore, we had a Nanny goat for all his beginning years. One morning I was the one who excitedly called to him, “Hey, Bubby, come and see.  Nanny has some puppies.”  We shared the joy of holding baby pigs and eating the berries picked off the ground from under the mulberry tree. We slept together with mom and dad when they pulled a mattress outside on cool starry nights.

I watched him work math problems on blackboards and memorize multiplication tables giving him the foundation for figuring how many pounds of seed he would need to plant forty acres.

I was the picky big sister who simply hated it when he started seeing that he looked quite handsome with his hair all slicked back like James Dean!  Now how would I connect that with James Dean.  I have no idea, but it must have become a trend about that time. 

Some of you began drifting into his life around the time he and Roy Holmes were driving me crazy with their pig-latin.  They could speak pig-latin faster than normal people could speak English!  Karen said she heard them talking one time when one of them told the other to be careful because Karen could understand them. 

Someplace around about that time, it must have soaked in to me that he was no longer my little Bubby.  Instead he was replaced by a grown man—a man of two kingdoms, the Kingdom of Heaven and the kingdom of earth.  He was a good citizen in both.  He fulfilled the scripture in Micah 6:8  “What does the Lord require of you?  To act justly and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with his God.” He was a righteous man.

I’m proud to be Clyde’s big sister.

About oneta hayes

ABOUT ME Hello. To various folks I am Neat’nee, Mom, Grandma Neta, Gramma, Aunt Neta, Aunt Noni, Aunt Neno, and Aunt Neto (lots of varieties from little nieces and nephews). To some I’m more like “Didn’t you used to be my teacher?” or “Don’t I know you from someplace?” To you, perhaps, I am a Fellow Blogger. Not “fellow” like a male or a guy, but “fellow” like a companion or an adventurer. I would choose to be Grandma Blogger, and have you pull up a chair, my website before you, while I tell you of some days of yore. I have experienced life much differently than most of you. It was and is a good life. I hope to share nuggets of appreciation for those who have gone before me and those who come after me. By necessity you are among those who come after me and I will tell you of those who came before. Once upon a time in a little house on a prairie - oops, change that lest I commit plagiarism - and change that “house on the prairie” to “dugout on the prairie.” So my story begins...
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  1. Frank Hubeny says:

    Beautiful remembrance of your brother. Many details lovingly told.

    • oneta hayes says:

      Thank you, Frank. I have a lot of stories that could back up my claim that he was an honest man. I don’t know about your past but I dare say folks would make the same claim about you now. Blessings.

  2. A beautiful tribute from a sister to her brother— we are honored reading your heart Oneta— thank you!

  3. floridaborne says:

    I love the “little house on the prairie” mood that your testament of love provides. There are far few men who can be a protector as well as a caring and loving person.

    • oneta hayes says:

      We do have a “little house on the prairie.” It is presently in my brother’s possession on some of his ranch land. I think his kids will try to keep it. All his nieces and nephews remember Uncle Clyde for taking them out the the old house in which my mother lived. Her sister was born there. I need to tell its story. Might inspire others who are memory buffs. Thanks for describing my brother in a nutshell.

  4. says:

    What a lovely testimony to your baby brother. Sorry for your loss, but happy for his gain. He sounds like a great man🥸

  5. pranabaxom says:

    What a touching tribute from a sister to a her little brother. Heart touching. Feel your loss deeply.
    May Clyde’s soul rest in peace.

  6. That’s really beautiful and touching words. What a tribute. I bet Clyde was proud to have a sister like you too x

    • oneta hayes says:

      Truthfully I think he would have made many of the same kind of claims regarding all three of his sisters. However, he probably could tell more “picky” sister stories about me! 😀 (One of our sisters passed about three years ago.) I still have one sister. She is a dear. Thank you for the comment.

  7. Such a beautiful tribute to ‘Your Bubby’. He would feel very honored, I’m sure. ❤

  8. Dawn Marie says:

    I am deeply sorry for your loss. May you continue to find comfort in all the many ways your loved him.

  9. Beautiful tribute. What marvelous memories. God bless you.

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