My Big Brother Bud

For the next few posts I will be reminiscing about my big brother. If you don't know the Bougher family, you have really missed out on part of life. We all live on sort of the edge of insanity--loving every minute of it, feeling sorry for those who don't understand. I didn't get to attend his funeral yesterday. But I got some reports about it. I feel sorry for the undertaker guy. But then that's a post for another day.

Here're the first of my first special memoirs:

When we lived on 5th Avenue in Des Moines, Iowa, I remember Bud reading the story of a dog named “Shep” to Steve and me. A chapter a night. It was such a sad, yet happy-ending story. I remember having great tears rolling down my face as he read it to us. A sweet memory.

Doing dishes. Yikes. This was not our favorite thing to do, yet we had no choice. It became the place of arguing or giggling. Either one in excess got Mom’s attention and brought trouble to our lives. One time we were doing this task and got into a goofy argument about something or other and I was so mad I grabbed the broom and held it bristle-side up, threatening to whap Bud on the head. Bud started to laugh (which really made me mad!) and of course he wasn’t going to stand there and take it…so he started to run through the house and out the front door, with me in hot pursuit, waving that broom. Down the front walk and down the street. He put his arms in the air and hollered like he was getting killed, with me trying to broom-bop him. Of course at this point he looked so silly that I had to laugh too. We went back into the house together, laughing. I still wonder what the neighbors thought.

I'm just glad Mom wasn't home.