Saturday, February 26, 2011


I was 17 years old when my younger brother Phil was born. On the morning
he was born, poor Dad who was usually unflappable actually did something
out of a sitcom: he loaded Mom’s suitcase into the car and then almost left
her standing out on the breezeway as he drove off. Luckily he didn;t get far
before he realized his mistake.

It was a school day and I was a junior in high school, so I had to go to classes.
I called the hospital a few times to check on how things were going.  It was
just before my science class with Miss Goldsberry that I learned I had a new
baby brother.

Dad stuck to his guns about not naming a son Floyd. Instead my parents
named my brother Philip John after Dad’s grandfather Philip Jonathan West.
As I said, I was seventeen years old when Phil was born and Cheryl was
twelve, so he basically grew up in a household with four adults. As he got
older he started watching the Bruins games on tv and his favorite player
was Phil Esposito. Sometimes he’d march down to the end of our driveway
and belt out “O Canada”!

By this time our parents were very involved in the Abington V.F.W. and Phil
spent a lot of time with them at events and watching them march in parades.
So it was only natural when he became interested in joining a drum and bugle
corps, an activity he continues to enjoy to this day.

((Word count 258))

Written for the Family History Writing Challenge

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