June 18

Johnny, a photo by mylla7777 on Flickr.

There's a story that goes with this picture, but I'm going to type it up later.

I worked a double shift yesterday. I closed tonight--7 hr shift. And I was out all the rest of the day with my grandma in South Minneapolis visiting grave sites--her mother, father, and little brother, Johnny. After we cleaned the graves and left flowers, we jumped in the car and it started to pour. There is a nice little Malt Shop nearby that we had lunch at, splitting a chicken sandwich and, of course, a malt.

---sometimelater---

My grandma was five years old when her little brother Johnny was born.  I know having favorite siblings can get you in trouble sometimes, but Johnny was her favorite.  I'm sure he was everybody's favorite. He was the sweetest little boy you could ever lay eyes on.  My grandma and her brothers and sisters always walked to school together.  Sometimes on their way back they would get penny candy from the store.  One day at school, my grandma saw another boy picking on little Johnny.  She promptly went up and punched the bully in the face, giving him a bloody nose.  She was punished for it, but she would have done it any day to protect her little brother.

When Johnny was eight years old, he began to have headaches.  They grew so bad that he had to stay in bed all the time, listening to the other children playing outside.  For six months he was bedridden.  There was nothing anyone could do for him.  He had a brain tumor.  He died, age eight, and was laid to rest in a cedar coffin.  My grandma still visits her darling little brother's grave every year.