Bunk bed brothers, we chatter into the night
About black magic, nightmares, things unseen
Brave new inventions fast unfurled
So keen – they’ll change the world.

Make us famous like Wright and Pine
(As in Kitty Hawk and stop that cough).
Ching-ching! Just can’t turn them off,
Ideas so bold and so incredibly fine
Like yours, brother, and especially mine.

Big brother Wally’s always gonna know more
‘Beaver’ kicks from below to even the score.

Sunshine station wagon, seven bound for Jax beach
Superman summer, snapdragon towels for each
Coppertone and coconut waft on a warm breeze
Waiting for that wave rolling big enough to please
Beachballs and bare feet bounce on the sand
Can’t touch bottom. Wanna be a man?

Banana bikes and snow cones, garage games and fairs
Basket-weave fences, zip lines, rooftops and dares…

It was meatloaf Mondays from August ’til December
(Or so it seems, that’s what I remember.)
And one jealous Christmas, brother beware
(Forget BBs, I got a gun that only shoots air)
“Gotta have one” to Mom you burst, “Me too!”
It’s all too much for big brother to chew.
Yet Quick Draw McGraw unwraps it first
You shoot at me — and I shoot you.

In April, a sun shower stops and bisects our yard
Half in, half out, we flitter back and forth hard
Like laughing ping-pong balls, grass tickling our feet.
The sheet of rain bounces, we race up the street.

* * * * *

Whatever became of those clear summer nights
When we sat back-to-back watching starlight
Against that blanket that wraps around all our cares–
The North Star, Orion’s Belt, the wandering Bears?

When “Father Knows Best” and God loved us all,
A sky full of fireflies answering the call
And they really did fall – (just like Dad said).
Winding Earthward in the wee hours of the night,
Those strange stars made no sound, put up no fight.

Beneath that Milky cloud a boyhood memory is shroud:
For more than an hour our hearts beat with wonder
Our spirits a-thunder as we counted aloud
Breaking into the hundreds, you and me,
A “moment of being” crystallized for eternity.

Author’s Note:

In Jacksonville, Florida, where my family lived for a few years in the mid-60s, you could sit outside at night in the winter and watch meteor showers in only a jacket.

… During the day, there were frequent rain showers, typically followed by abundant sun. One afternoon, the sheet of rain really did stop in our front yard, and it lingered for a minute before it ran up the street faster than we could catch it.

… On weekends, the seven of us would pile into our Ford station wagon and head for Jacksonville Beach. Lathered with Coppertone, we’d race into the water until we were up to our necks in the lulls. Then we’d spend an hour jumping the 6-8 ft. waves or diving through them.

… At night, while lying in our bunk bed, my brother, Peter (on the bottom), and I would come up with fantastic money-making ideas that kept us up late. (The only invention I can remember now is a catapult to launch garbage cans into the truck.)

… Much later in life, Peter started joking that I was the older brother “Wally” from the TV show, “Leave it to Beaver,” which, ‘sorta kinda’ makes him “The Beave.”

The poem and artwork are used with the permission of the author.