Stories of my Brother Mark

This photograph is of my brothers Tim and Mark. It was taken when they were small as you can see. Mark must have been between two and three from the looks of the photograph. All of my siblings are older than me, I was the baby of the family. My brother Mark and I never knew one another. He died before I was born.

 It is kind of odd sometimes when you sit and think that you had another brother and you never got to meet him. The rest of my siblings knew him. All I have are stories they or my parents have told me about him. He died when he was five years old. The story goes that he was playing on the neighbors porch with my brother and some more children. There were some old metal folding chairs on the porch and somehow he managed to close one of them up on his fingers and it severed his finger almost in two.

 So, mom stated that someone she knew was a nurse and she put a tornequite on it to try and stop the bleeding and they took him to the hospital. From there he was transferred to Cardinal Glennon Hospital in St. Louis, MO and that is where he died. He was injured on Memorial Day weekend of that year and he died on Labor Day Weekend. Mom said that he had gotten tetanus or what they then termed Lock Jaw.  The doctors told my parents that if he lived he would be brain dead and what they termed a vegetable. The night he died mom had came home and she said that dad had stayed behind in St. Louis. He came home that evening. During the night in the wee hours of the morning dad got a phone call that said they needed to get to the hospital as quick as they could because Mark had taken a turn for the worse. Mom stated that she told Dad not to rush that she knew he was already gone.

 She said right before that phone call came she heard Organ Music playing above her head and she knew that he had already passed on. She said when they got to the hospital she went into his room and just fell over on his bed and the nurse had to pull her off him. It was so sad that when she told me the story, being the emotional person that I am, I cried.  For years mom kept one of his outfits. She even had his sandals that he used to wear. I do not know what ever became of them but I remember as a child, I was afraid to look at his photograph or to see anything that belonged to him. Little children are often afraid of things such as that and I certainly was.

This is another photo of Mark. He was in someones wedding that Dad was performing in the church. My family often tells a story about Mark that he liked to play church. He was often known to get out my parents old suitcase and stand on it and he and my brother Tim would play church. Mark was quoted as saying:

"You be Brother Eads and Ill be Brother Barlow" and he would stomp and preach and praise the Lord.

Mom also told another story that one time she was cleaning and working around the house and all the kids were outside playing and Mark came running through the door and she asked him what he was looking for and he said he wanted his Daddys Clawhammer, he said someone was picking on his "Bruthver" Of course mom told him he was not to get that hammer under no circumstances. He was taking up for Tim of course, over Lord knows what.

Due to their religious beliefs my parents did not have Television in the house and so I have heard stories about how my brothers and sisters would go peek in the neighbors window and watch Pop Eye.

I have lots more family stories to share. Ill post some of them along with some photographs in the days to come!